Time Off
by torchestogether
Summary: The man next door has a habit of causing trouble and shakes up Lyra's life in a way she didn't imagine would be possible after the Chitauri attacks. The two will find out that even after the darkest times, there is always hope for laughter and adventures if a person is crazy enough to take the leap. [This will be a mix of the films and the Hawkeye comics]
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 **This is going to take place after the events of the first Avengers, but I am not sure that I will be following the rest of the storyline leading into Age of Ultron. I'm kind of just going with this idea I have in my head that is going to be a mix of the movies and the Hawkeye comics. I'm not sure how well it's going to work, but hopefully you'll like it!**

I heard the scream again. It woke me from my own nightmare, blending at first with the screams that echoed in my head. The screams from that day. The day that the world was forever turned upside down and the city almost fell to a legion of alien soldiers. I was not the only one that found themselves struggling to shake the horrors I saw amidst the destruction. For months now after the attack on New York, the man in the apartment next door woke me up every night to the sounds of his scream. The noise was gut wrenching even after all this time.

Each night, his pain would wake me up and I would lay in silence, hearing him through the thin wall as he gasped for air until he could settle himself down. I never heard anyone else there trying to comfort him; he was alone.

I wished I could help him. As creepy as it probably would sound, I often found myself wishing I could offer some comfort to the stranger I had begun to feel a strange camaraderie with. I knew it was insane to have such thoughts towards someone I didn't know, but if the attack on the city had taught me anything, it was that people needed to be able to lean on each other in dark times.

I wasn't even sure what the man in the next apartment looked like. I had never seen him in the hallway or walking into the building. Either he never went outside or he kept odd hours. I don't know what I would even say to him if I did run into him. I couldn't very well tell him that I heard him without sounding like a stalker.

I laid in the dark, listening to his ragged and gasping panic through the paper thin wall and my heart broke for him once again. I heard a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking before a string of curse words brought an amused grin to my face. His voice was rough and almost in a growl as he shouted at the "damned table" that was the source of the collision. I rolled over onto my side and chuckled softly before closing my eyes again. It was good to know I wasn't the only one who was a mess these days; it made me feel just a little less crazy.

I sighed and willed sleep to take me again, but it was always hard to find after my own nightmares. The flames and the cries of hundreds of people were always there to greet me when I slipped into unconsciousness. It was difficult to relax when I knew what was waiting for me in my own head.

Another loud bang jolted me out of my doze. I sat upright in bed. It sounded like the bang came from outside my window. The metallic clang that followed was coming from the fire escape outside. Fear rushed through me and my throat felt tight. I grabbed the knife that I kept beside my bed, thankful for once that my paranoia was actually going to pay off. My hand shook as I pushed the covers off of my legs and stepped onto the cold floor. I barely registered my owns movements as I made my way over to the window.

It was still dark outside and a layer of frost touched the corners of the glass window. I could feel the cold air rushing in through the cracks around the windowpane. As much as the fear that was coursing through my body begged me to run in the opposite direction, I pushed myself forward. I would not allow myself to be harmed without a fight. I had felt truly hopeless during the the alien attack; I was not able to defend myself or try to escape. I was as helpless as a child and I would _never_ let that happen again.

I grabbed the window and pushed it upwards roughly in one swift motion. The hand with the knife was clenched so tightly that the handle was digging into my skin as I held it up in a defensive position.

"What are you doing outside of my fucking window?" I demanded, trying to put as much venom in my voice as I could in an effort to appear more intimidating than I felt.

I stepped closer to the window when I received no response. I could hear someone breathing outside. As I reached the window, I could see the back of a man sitting on on the metal walkway, his feet dangling over the side and his head resting on the railing. The air was bitter cold and I could see his breath rising in the air in front of him in fast puffs. I hit the knife against the metal walkway to get his attention.

"Hello? Seriously, what are you doing out there?" I pressed, "If you're planning on robbing or murdering anyone, I think sitting outside in the cold isn't a great start."

The man let out a low laugh, but didn't say anything. He just tilted his head a little towards me.

I frowned in frustration, unsure of what to do. "I have a knife." I figured it was worth putting that information out there even though I was beginning to doubt that the man was planning to suddenly attack me.

At this, the man finally asked, "Do you get a lot of suspected murderers outside your window?"

I could hear the joke in his voice and I suddenly felt a little ridiculous standing with a kitchen knife while wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt in my barefeet. I lowered the hand with the knife and crossed my arms across my chest against the cold.

"Are you usually stomping around outside people's windows and making enough noise to wake the dead?" I said in retort.

The man hung his head a little, but then pointed at his ear so I could see the small device. Guilt wracked through me as I realized what it was.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," I rushed out. I was thankful that he was facing away from me and couldn't see the bright red on my face.

"Not a big deal," the man replied, "I was half asleep when I came out here and I forgot to put both of them in. I can only hear out of the one ear right now. My fault. I'm sorry that I woke you up."

"You're the guy that lives in the apartment next to mine, aren't you?" I asked, ignoring the cold and walking right up to the windowsill now.

He nodded, "Yeah. I'm sure you're just thrilled about that. I'm sorry if I've woken you up any before."

I decided to keep the regular unscheduled wake up calls to myself, knowing that it would just make him feel worse, "Are you okay?"

There was a long pause and I began to think maybe he hadn't heard me again before he replied, "Sure."

"That's convincing," I said sarcastically.

There was a snort of laughter, "It was very convincing, I thought. But I'll be fine. You should try to get back to sleep. I won't make anymore noise out here, I promise."

I sighed quietly at the sadness I could hear in his voice. I slowly pulled the window back down and marched quickly to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, I watched the man startle slightly as I settled down on the fire escape beside him. He turned to look at me with a look of sleepy confusion as I handed him a mug of hot chocolate and a small blanket.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"Did you leave the knife inside?" the man asked, taking the steaming mug of hot chocolate out of my hands. He pulled the blanket up over his shoulders nonchalantly, but I could see him shivering despite his efforts to look unfazed.

The side of my mouth lifted up in a half smile and I shrugged, "Who needs a knife when I can just poison my would-be attacker?"

He eyed the mug for a few seconds before shaking his head and taking a long sip, "It's so damned cold out here that I think I'll risk it."

We sat in silence for a while. It was freezing out, but with the blankets and the hot chocolate, I was content. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep after being woken up and being prepared to fight off a mysterious serial killer, so this man was going to have company whether he wanted it or not.

Besides, it had been a while since I had really _looked_ at the city in the winter like this. Everything was quiet and still; the only sounds were the two of us breathing and the occasional cars below braving the weather. It was starting to snow and everything down below was covered in a layer of frost. It would have been beautiful if the building across the street wasn't boarded up and half falling down, a constant reminder of the attacks.

"Thank you," I heard, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I looked over and found him staring at me. His eyes held so much sadness that I longed to reach over and cup his cheek to comfort him, but I dug my fingers into the folds of my blanket to resist. He scrunched his eyebrows together and took a deep breath. I could see some kind of internal conflict playing out behind his eyes; it was almost like he was trying to figure out why I was talking to him. I began to feel like I might be intruding. I made a move to get up, but was met with his hand lightly resting on my arm.

"Please stay," he asked, voice deep and quiet. I could feel the warm of his breath ghosting across my face and moving my hair, "It's nice to not be…"

"Alone?" I finished for him, nodding my head, "I'll stay."

He smiled back at me, this time the sadness seem to be held at bay a little bit better. He looked relieved and took another sip of the hot chocolate.

"I do have one request though," I told him.

He lifted an eyebrow at me and smirked, "And that would be? I'm already holding off on murdering you. You're asking a lot, you know."

I rolled my eyes at his snarkiness, "Well I guess I won't have to make you another cup of hot chocolate then. And you definitely won't get extra marshmallows either. I don't want to encourage murdering your neighbors."

"Aww, marshmallows," he exclaimed, "That's just low to threaten someone with that. Fine, what is your request?"

He held out his now empty mug and gave me the saddest puppy dog eyes that I had ever seen. He suddenly looked like a weight had been lifted from him, a more relaxed and what must have been a previously carefree nature peaked through. I took the mug from him and laughed.

"I want to at least know who I'm letting share my precious hot chocolate stash with," I replied, "Besides, you _did_ scare me half to death, so I think you owe me."

He scoffed, "You're the one that almost stabbed me."

I stared back at him, just smiling expectantly. He wasn't going to get away with deflecting that easily. I waited as he tried to hold the guilt inducing pout for a few more seconds before realizing it wasn't going to work on me.

"Alright, fine, you win," he conceded, "But marshmallows first?"

I laughed and rolled my eyes, "Sure. I can't believe I was scared of you there for a couple of seconds. You're like a giant five year old."

"Hold the poison this time," he called as I hurried back inside to make more drinks.

His face lit up again when I settled back down next to him. I handed him back his mug and watched as he almost spilled it everywhere. I saw him grin as he took in the overflowing pile of marshmallows.

"No one has made me hot chocolate in…." he trailed off, "Well, _ever._ "

I noticed he started to sink back into that long stare again, so I nudged him gently, "Hey, that drink isn't free, remember?"

He seemed to be pulled back from the edge of his thoughts again and he nodded, "You're pretty persistent for someone who should be sleeping like everyone else in the city right now."

"Deflecting again," I scolded, poking him and causing a marshmallow to tumble out of the mug and down to the street below.

"Clint," he said, watching it fall and bounce off a car. He noticed me staring at him and then rolled his eyes before correcting, "Clint Barton."

That's odd. I could have sworn he looked familiar, but I knew I had never heard that name before. I chalked it up to just thinking he would look familiar after thinking about who the man with the nightmares next door might be. I must have conjured up this feeling of familiarity in my sleep deprived mind.

A gentle poke in my side cleared my head from my admittedly weird musings. I glanced over and saw him smiling at me. He nodded his head pointedly and then tossed a marshmallow at me. I laughed when I realized that he was waiting for a reply with the same information I had pried out of him. I grinned back at him.

"I'm Lyra Ridley."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

The phone vibrating across the coffee table startled Clint awake. He groggily reached for it and knocked over a glass in the scramble.

 _That's why they call you Hawkeye, moron. Look at that accuracy,_ he scolded himself. He was falling apart these days. The Chitauri invasion and the ensuing battle had been hard on the whole team, but he was the one that seemed the most changed afterwards. Then again, the rest of them hadn't had their brain poked and prodded by a manipulative god either. He found it hard to go back to how he was before Loki had used the Tesseract's power to control him.

He pushed those thoughts away as best as he could as he plucked the phone off of the now wet coffee table and answered, "Barton."

"Charming as always, Clint," a woman's voice chided him.

He sighed and flopped back down on the couch, "Sorry, Nat. I was sleeping and then knocked over a bunch of water when you called."

"Well, at least you're sleeping better. That's good," she said.

He clenched his jaw, but didn't respond. He was tired of all of them treating him like he was made of glass. Everyone acted like he was going to suddenly snap one day because of the things Loki had done to him. Maybe they were right.

"Listen, Clint, Fury is calling a meeting today and he wants you there," she told him firmly, catching on to his obvious dislike of being babied.

Running his hand through his short hair, he shook his head, "I'm not sure that I'm really needed there. I told you guys before, I'm not an Avenger. I can't be. After what happened with Loki, I just don't trust myself. I was on the wrong side for most of that whole thing."

"We've had this talk before," Natasha replied, "You _are_ an Avenger. You're part of this team and we need you with us. Even Stark has started asking when you're coming back to live at the Tower."

At that, Clint laughed, "That sounds too shocking to be true. But seriously, Nat, I told Fury I needed some time off. He agreed to it and he needs to respect it. I need to make sure that I'm one hundred percent myself before you trust me to have your backs."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Out of the entire group, Natasha had always been the one closest to Clint. The two had known each other a long time and she understood him in ways that the rest of the team couldn't. He knew she was wrestling between Fury's orders and her loyalty to Clint. A few years ago, he knew she would have followed those orders exactly, but he knew time had helped Natasha to come to trust him.

"Okay," she finally agreed, "I'll tell him what you said. I can't guarantee that he won't take a helicopter right to you and drag your ass here, but I won't do it for him."

"Thanks," he said, "I promise this isn't forever. You know I get bored when I'm not on a mission. I just need some time."

That's been his go-to line for months now. He's said he needed time more than he can even count and the words have become almost meaningless.

"Can I come visit you, at least? I have a bottle of terrible vodka with your name on it," she asked, but didn't press. She already knew the answer.

Clint frowned, "Save it for me for when I come back."

At that, the line went dead. He knew she wasn't mad at him; she just wasn't good at heartfelt goodbyes and preferred to keep things at arm's length when it came to personal things. He made a mental note to get her some expensive vodka as a peace offering to give to her when they came back.

Clint flopped back down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. The frustration grew inside of him and he felt his fists clenching on their own accord. He just wanted things to get back to normal, but he didn't know how to do that.

The sound of a door slamming shut made him tense. It was the girl next door. Lyra. He could always hear when she got home from work. The apartment building was old and every creak or footstep was loud even to him. He thought back to the other night when they had sat outside and talked. That night, he had one of the worst nightmares yet and had gone outside to be alone. His thoughts had turned dark that night. Very dark. He hadn't felt that hopeless in a long time and he didn't know if he could take it. His thoughts were taking a dangerous turn when she had come out on the fire escape with him.

Something as simple as a girl sitting next time him and some hot chocolate had eased his mind. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but he felt at peace with her. He knew these feelings were cliche and unfounded; he had only talked to her that one night. He could hear the jokes Stark would have if he found out Clint had blushed and flirted with the girl next door. His job wasn't exactly conducive to relationships.

Suddenly feeling antsy, Clint decided he needed to move. He couldn't sit in this apartment, stewing over his thoughts alone for another day. He glanced over at the door, where his bow was propped against the wall. He hesitated, looking over to the window that had access to the fire escape and then back at the bow.

Clint groaned and rolled his eyes at himself before hurrying over to the window without his bow.

 **I hope this chapter was okay. I've never written in the POV of a character other than one of my OCs, so this was a little weird for me. I probably won't do that very often though, so don't be scared off! I just wanted to give it a try.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

I threw my bag down on the couch and went to raid the kitchen. I was always starving after work and it took me at least a half hour to eat and shower before becoming a normal human again. I worked at a dog boarding facility, so I spent my days getting drooled on and dirt covered. It wasn't a pretty sight. I stood in front of the sink devouring a slice of cold pizza like it was the first meal I had in weeks. Working with the dogs was pretty physically demanding and I was always hungrier than a bear afterwards.

I was about to work on my third piece of pizza when a small tap on the window made me pause. I stood there, trying to decide if I was imagining things or not before turning my attention back to the food. A few seconds later, a louder rapping echoed through the apartment. Pizza still in hand, I slowly walked into the living room to see what was going on.

 _Oh, please let there be no one there,_ my mind pleaded. I hadn't heard from Clint in a few days, so I figured he was avoiding me or just not interested. As much as I wanted to see him again, a mouth full of pizza and covered in dog hair was certainly not how I imagined our second meeting to go.

A face was grinning in from outside the window, breath fogging up the icy glass. I never did have much luck.

"You couldn't have decided to come around tonight after I de-grossify myself, huh?" I mumbled to myself. I could already feel my face burning in embarrassment

I didn't even bother to try to smooth out my hair before opening the window, I already knew it was hopeless. The cold air immediately rushed in along with some stray snowflakes. Why he insisted on going outside in the frigid weather instead of knocking on my door in the warm hallway, I had no idea.

"You look lovely," he exclaimed, laughing.

I moved to shut the window on his stupid face while I scowled at him in mock dislike, "You look like an ass."

He quickly grabbed the bottom of the window to stop me from closing it. I blinked in surprise; I had barely seen his hand move to stop me. Nice reflexes. I tilted my head at him and gave him the sternest look I could muster.

"I'm sorry, I have a bad sense of humor. Once you get to know me better, I'm sure you'll think I'm amazingly charming like everyone else does," he joked, "Is that pizza?"

"Now why would you think that?" I responded dryly.

His face held a look of childish excitement as he looked back and forth from my face to the pizza a couple of times, "Do you have an extra slice?"

Unable to keep pretending to be annoyed with him, I laughed and stepped to the side, "Come on, Barton. Get inside and out of the cold. I'll get you a plate."

A few minutes later, he was sitting on my couch devouring half of the leftover pizza. I watched in amusement as he smiled to himself as he ate.

"Don't you have any food in your apartment?" I laughed, "You ate all my marshmallows and now even the cold leftover pizza. Don't you eat over there?"

He looked bashful and stopped mid bite, "Oh shit, I'm sorry! I don't want you to think I'm trying to steal your food all the time. I really didn't come over here for that, I swear!"

"Don't worry about it," I tried to backtrack quickly, "I'm just joking. Someone has to make sure you don't starve, right? I think I can be responsible for that."

He laughed, a slight blush crept up his neck, "I'm not very good at cooking. I think my fridge has some milk and a container of chinese takeout from a month ago in it. I eat a lot of pizza."

I chuckled at that, "Well maybe I can cook you something a little more substantial than junk food sometime. But only if you stop scaring me and looking in my window like a creep."

That small blush turned into a full beet red face.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower and change. I just got back from work," I told him, gesturing to my dirt covered clothes, "You can hang out here, if you want. I'll be real quick."

Clint looked around, avoiding my eyes, before asking, "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I? I don't want to be in the way or anything."

The way he asked filled me with sadness for him. It seemed like a question he thought he already knew the answer to; he thought that I was just tolerating his presence here or something and was afraid to hear me tell him to leave. He sounded distinctly lonely and that made me want to wrap him up in a hug, but I knew that would be too intrusive for someone I barely knew. I wasn't usually so willing to show any kind of affection or let my guard down, but I was finding it hard to ignore those thoughts when I looked at Clint.

 _Great, I'm turning into one of those girls who practically swoons in the presence of a guy they like,_ I thought bitterly.

"Your ass better still be here when I'm done since you ate the rest of my pizza. I at least get to ask you some more questions in exchange for that, don't I? That seems to be the currency around here," I told him, "If you're still hungry, you can help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I'm not a chef or anything, but there's some stuff in there that's fairly healthy. You won't get scurvy at least."

I knew I was starting to ramble, so I hurried into my room to grab some clothes. I tried to make sure I didn't pick anything too dressy but I wanted to at least look somewhat decent. I decided that some dark skinny jeans and fitted band t-shirt would be enough to look casual but still show off the fact that I was actually a girl under all the dirt and grime that I was buried under at the moment.

Once in the shower, I thought over the situation that had just played out. It was odd for me to be so relaxed with someone right off the bat like that. It wasn't a secret that I was bad at making friends with people. I never had anyone over and even growing up, I spent most of my time alone. I just couldn't connect with other people for some reason, even if I made a conscious effort.

I hopped out of the shower and quickly got dressed. My heart started to race a little at the thought that Clint was still out in the living room. I found myself checking my appearance in the mirror a little longer than I normally would have. I smoothed out my dark hair that was already getting wavy as it dried. I looked slightly less like a complete disaster than I did a little while ago.

Going back out into the living room, my stomach dropped when I saw the empty couch. I must have looked or smelled worse than I thought after work. Of course I would scare him off. I tried to push away the disappointment when I heard a shuffle in the kitchen along with some humming.

Clint stood in front of the sink, hands down in the soapy water as he washed the dishes. I noticed he had not only washed the plate I had given him earlier, but the stuff that had been in the sink from the night before already. He turned when he heard me and gave me a slight nod before turning back to the dishes with a look of intense concentration.

"You didn't have to do that," I said, stepping up beside him and taking a towel to begin drying.

He shrugged, "I _did_ eat a lot of your food."

I laughed and jabbed him with my elbow, "This doesn't mean that you get to avoid talking to me though. That's still part of your food tab."

"Why did I agree to this again?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed but he couldn't quite keep his smile hidden.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

We talked for a couple of hours. The topics never touched anything too serious, but I learned that we had the same taste in music and shows. We both loved cheesy eighties horror movies and could get too wrapped up in video games. As nervous as I had been about talking to him, I found that I could let my guard down around him already. I thought maybe Clint felt the same way; his eyes didn't have that distant sad look to them anymore as he adamantly debated with me over why he thought having one of the Mogwai creatures from the movie _Gremlins_ would be better than having an Ewok. Finally someone who was possibly even more of a dork than I was; it made me smile until my face practically hurt.

"So, do I get to pick the movie since I washed dishes?" Clint asked, falling against the back of the couch after the two of us finally stopped laughing about his tale of someone he knew who had eaten four entire boxes of Poptarts and proclaiming them a culinary masterpiece. He seemed to know some strange people and had some hilarious stories about their weird adventures together, even though he talked about it all in the past tense like he didn't know them anymore. I would file that observation for later.

I scoffed and poked him in the side, making him jump, "No way. You said that was for eating my food."

"That was because I forgot that you wanted me to pay you in my delightful conversation," he boasted dramatically, earning another sharp jab.

"I never said I was fair," I pointed out, "You can consider that interest. Besides, I already know what movie we're going to watch."

Clint groaned dramatically, but then perked up when he saw what I was putting on, "Dawn of the Dead? Good choice! Oh, but wait, let me order us some Chinese food first. I believe it's my turn to find us some food anyway."

I looked at the clock and was shocked to realize that we had been talking for so long that it was time for a late dinner. Then the shock of that turned to focus on the fact that he had wanted to be around me for that long by his own free will. That certainly was something I could get used to having.

After hanging up the phone, Clint settled back into the couch and turned the movie back on. I noticed he was slightly closer to me than he was before. He didn't seem to have done it intentionally, but I couldn't help but be aware of it. To be aware of _him._ He was certainly attractive, lean but muscular and athletic. He had a certain rugged look that seemed to suggest he liked to spend time outside. His hair was cut short but looked like it would be the perfect length to run my fingers through.

He glanced over at me and smirked, "I told you earlier that you would find me charming. I was right, wasn't I?"

I rolled my eyes, but my face felt hot as I looked away quickly, "Someone is full of themselves."

He chuckled and I could feel his eyes still on me as my face burned red even more. I waited a few minutes before peaking at him out of the corner of my eye. He was still staring at me, but this time, the teasing expression was gone from his face. His gaze had grown intense, but not in an angry or sad way. It was something else. Something I couldn't place. My heart began to pound in my chest faster as my mind went blank.

A knock at the door made both of us jump. Clint scrambled to his feet and practically ran to the door. As he talked to the delivery man, I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. What _was_ that? I hoped the rest of the evening wouldn't be awkward now. I must have come across as a teenaged girl with a crush the way he had caught me gawking at him like that.

Clint dropped the food down on the coffee table and handed me some chopsticks. He sat close enough that our arms were almost touching and he handed me a take out box. I still couldn't figure out what to say to break the awkward silence that had formed.

"The delivery guy thought I was charming," I heard him mumble with a mouthful of noodles.

The two of us looked at each other and began to laugh at the same time. The awkwardness had diffused itself without any more effort than that one line. I felt relief at the way his expression relaxed as he turned back and started the movie again, demolishing the food at an alarming rate while zombies were being killed in the background. I hadn't realized how much I had wanted to have someone to spend time with like this.

"I think anyone could take out zombies that are that slow. It would almost be too easy. Its their own fault if they let themselves get eaten by something that moves like a snail," I argued after the movie was over.

Clint shook his head as he stretched his legs out more where they were propped up on the table, "It isn't about their speed. The trouble is that there are so many of them and once one notices you, there's a whole hoard of them that come after you."

I shrugged, "I already have a plan. Obviously it would be better to be quiet and sneaky during a zombie apocalypse. I wouldn't want to draw any attention to where I was hiding. I'd use a bow and arrow to take them out silently. That's the smartest choice. Of course, if any of this did ever happen, I would probably still have no idea how to shoot a bow and would end up being killed immediately."

His face looked shocked for a second before he burst out in hysterical laughter. I tried to get him to explain what was so funny, but the only response I got was some frantic waving as he tried to form words. Finally he just gave up and continued laughing until I couldn't help but join in.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

 **As a note, I changed the rating of this story just to be safe. Nothing too crazy yet, but I figured it would be better to not have to worry about it. Hope you enjoy!**

I tried to roll over, but I was caught in the blanket and unable to turn in either direction. I wasn't uncomfortable, but the light was streaming into the room. I must have forgotten to close the blinds before I went to bed. I finally motivated myself to open my eyes and was met with a solid wall of black fabric.

Confusion and fear spread over me as I realized that I wasn't stuck in my blankets like my foggy brain had thought. I was stuck between the back of the couch and a person. No, not just a person. Clint. I was relieved for a couple of seconds before that turned back to confusion. How had this even happened? I remembered watching a couple of movies last night and getting tired halfway through the last one, but I distinctly recalled being on the opposite end of the couch from him and sitting up against the armrest.

I craned my neck to look up at him. He was still sound asleep. I couldn't help but smile softly at the look on his face; he was totally relaxed and there was no trace of the nightmares that I knew had plagued him for months. It seemed like he was finally able to get some rest and find some peace.

He shifted a little and that's when I noticed his hands were around my waist. He had been holding me gently enough that I hadn't realized it at first, but now he was pulling me tighter against his chest. I allowed my head to lean back against him and heard him sigh. I felt as he pushed his face closer to the top of my head and into my hair. I wasn't sure what to do in this situation.

Should I wake him up before I found myself unable to ignore the growing attraction I was feeling towards him? The thought of losing him as a friend so soon was something that terrified me. But another part of me wanted to let him stay right where he was. Clint had clearly been having a hard time since whatever had happened to him during the attacks and if he was able to find some sleep without waking up screaming alone in the dark….well how could I interrupt that? This part of me was most likely influenced by my own selfish desire have him close to me. I couldn't ignore the fact that the previous night had also been the first free of the screams and images my own brain tortured me with nightly.

A sharp intake of breath pulled me out of my thoughts. I felt Clint tense next to me. His entire body went rigid with tension and his hands gripped me just slightly tighter. He was awake. He must have been as confused as I was about our situation. I decided to just stay quiet and see what he wanted to do about it. I would let him decide if he wanted to slip away and pretend this hadn't happened. I was pathetic.

The seconds ticked by painfully slow as I listened to him slowly let out the breath he had been holding. He loosened his grip on me fractionally, but didn't pull away all together. He let out a shaky breath. _I should let him know I'm awake._

I shifted like I was waking up, expecting him to sit up and make a fumbling excuse to leave but he didn't. I looked up again to see him staring down at me, his face inches away from mine. I could feel his breath on my face, warm but not unpleasant.

"Well, this looks bad," Clint whispered.

"It's okay if you want to leave. I don't want you to feel awkward about this," I said, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

He chuckled softly, "I don't want to leave. Not unless you want me to go. I just meant that it looks bad because you probably think I was trying to pull a move on you last night or something. I swear I didn't do anything, unless you want to count some possible drooling or snoring. I don't want this to be awkward either."

"I think the fact that we're both fully clothed and covered in a ton of blankets gave me the hint that you didn't try anything," I pointed out, "And I don't want you to leave either."

His gaze held mine, the intensity of it made my heart beat faster. I felt his fingertips find a sliver of my side that was exposed where my t-shirt had been bunched up. His fingers were rough and calloused. Clint brushed my skin lightly, his touch delightfully warm and gentle. A small shiver crept through me. His hand pulled away and I immediately longed for the lost contact. My frustration was soothed when he raised his fingers to the side of my face, sweeping the stray strands of hair out of my eyes and over my shoulder. The trail that his hand brushed tingled with heat, which only increased when he brought it back down slowly to lift my chin.

"Lyra," he said, but I understood it to be meant as a question. His eyes flicked down to my lips and back up, uncertain and heartbreakingly vulnerable in contrast to his earlier confidence.

In a silent answer, I tugged on the front of his shirt lightly and lifted my face towards him a little bit more. His hand moved to cup the side of my face and he leaned down slowly. I closed my eyes and felt his lips press to mine softly. He pulled away, but hovered so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was my turn as I met his lips again with just as much care. I parted my mouth for him and he let out a small contented sigh, mirroring my movements eagerly. His kiss became deeper and more urgent, coaxing a small moan from deep inside me. His arousal became more and more noticeable as I pressed closer to him in desperation as much contact as possible.

After too short a time, he pulled away and brushed my bottom lip with his thumb, "I don't want to rush anything and then never speak again. Not with you. I don't want to mess this up. I want to do this the right way. Damn, I sound like Rogers…"

I had no idea what he meant by the last part of that, but the rest of it was easy enough to understand, "I'd like that. We'll do this at your speed. No need to hurry. I could just use you as a pillow for now, if that's what you want."

He laughed and I realized that he had been as nervous as I was, "I don't think we have to revert back _that_ far."

With that, he leaned back down to meet my lips once more, once again carefully tender and slow.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"You don't have to go to work today," Clint tried to persuade me.

The two of us were sitting out on the fire escape, huddled under a blanket together and watching the cars drive by down below. My head was resting against his shoulder. He pulled me even closer to his side with an arm firmly wrapped around my waist. His words were tempting; I hated the fact that I had to work today. He had stayed the night in my apartment again and I still wasn't ready for us to part ways. We had spent the evening talking and laughing and kissing. Lots of kissing. It all felt so comfortable between us already.

"I have to go," I laughed, "You keep eating all my food. I have to work hard to keep us from starving."

Clint pressed a kiss to the top of my head, "I'll pay for everything. I have money. You could just stay here and entertain me all day."

I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully, "How do you have money? You never leave this building. You really are a burglar, aren't you? That first night, you _were_ trying to kill me for my money."

He shifted uncomfortably at my joke, but didn't answer.

"Do you _have_ a job? I don't remember you telling me about anything, even after I kept rambled on about my work with the dogs earlier. Or are you going to school?" I knew I was prying, but why _hadn't_ we talked more about what Clint did for a living? We had discussed my job and what I wanted to do in the future at length, but he had managed to turn all my questions about him back onto the subject of my own life. How had I not noticed that until now?

His silence gave me pause and leaned away from him so I could see his face. He was avoiding my gaze, eyes back to that haunted, distant look that I had seen the first time I met him. Guilt gnawed at me. It was obvious now that I had noticed his reclusive tendencies from before we met and the last thing I had intended to do was rub that knowledge in Clint's face.

"I shouldn't have asked that. That's your own business and you have every right to keep that to yourself," I pedaled backwards, "I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I'm still not entirely sure what _this_ is." I squeezed my hand around his to show my meaning.

Clint ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair roughly, "Lyra, I just...I have a lot of stuff in my life that I can't really talk about. Not just with you, but to _anyone._ That's sounds sketchy and maybe it _is,_ but that's the reality of it. I'm sorry that the situation is like that. I had always been fine with the secrets and the solitude of it all, but I never had anyone in my life that I _could_ talk to, so it never bothered me. I don't want to keep secrets from you, but...I have no choice."

He had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his head turned away from me so I couldn't read the expression on his face. I didn't know how to respond to any of that. His words had caught me off guard. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to will the words to appear out of thin air, but to no avail. His arm slid away from its place around my waist and the bitter winter air rushed in to fill its place. A sigh was the only response to my silence. He clenched his jaw tightly, the movement making his face cold and distant. All emotion was wiped from his face. Clint pushed the blanket off his shoulders and abruptly stood up. Without another word, he turned to walk across the metal walkway.

"Clint," I whispered to his back.

He stopped, back rigid and shoulders tight. He didn't turn around, instead just waited for me to say something. My mind raced for something, anything to say to him to make this better, but the words wouldn't come.

"Don't worry about it. I should never have thought that things could be different. This is my own fault," his low tone was filled with pain.

I watched as he pulled the window to his apartment up and disappeared inside, closing it behind him with a loud bang. His words may have very well been a riddle for all the sense they made to me.

My phone beeped loudly, startling me. I groaned as I remembered that was my alarm that meant it was time to leave for work. I wished I had taken him up on his offer to skip going in today, but it was too late now. Besides, maybe we both needed some time to cool off and the situation would resolve itself. Maybe I was just too pathetic to follow him right now.

* * *

Even the noise of the dogs barking and the hectic routine of taking care of all of them, my mind wouldn't stop replaying the events of earlier again and again. At first, I had tried to pick apart exactly what it was that I said that had offended Clint so much. Sure, I could have kept my questions to myself and not pressed the matter, but I did not think any of it was overly intrusive.

The nervousness about what _I_ may have done began to dissipate the longer I thought. We certainly hadn't established that whatever there was between us was a relationship, but we _were_ spending time together and had clearly crossed the line of being "friends." Surely that gave me the right to at least ask a question as simple as if he had a job. It was not like I had asked him for his bank balance or his medical records.

By the time my shift was over, I was no longer self-conscious about the situation; I was angry. I had stormed back to the apartment, each step giving me more confidence that I had done nothing to deserve the reaction I had received. I was not a naturally confrontational person, but after finally connecting with another person and getting to know them, I would be damned if I was going to be shunned for trying to further it.

I stomped past Clint's door and slammed my own behind me. I knew he heard me; the entire building had to have jumped at the sound. I threw my bag down on the couch and quietly hurried over to the window. Without a sound, I pulled the window open and slipped out onto the fire escape.

Clint's apartment was dim, but there was a light flickering from inside that seemed to be coming from a television in the living room. My fingers traced the window as I thought about what I was going to do. This was way more bold than I had ever been, but the thought made my heart pump with adrenaline and gave me courage. I tested the window and a wicked grin spread across my face as it opened without even a creak.

Ears straining for any sound of being noticed, I slipped across the windowsill and into Clint's apartment. I could hear the noise of the television loudly playing in the other room, as well as some ragged breathing. From my spot around the corner, I could see Clint laying on the couch, his eyes closed and a bottle of vodka dangling from his hand that was drooped to the floor.

I made a step towards him, still unsure of what my plan was and beginning to lose confidence. My foot hit an empty beer bottle, sending it flying into a bookshelf. The bottle broke and the shatter reverberated through the room. I gasped at the noise and my eyes shot back up to see if Clint had woken up.

A hand wrapped around my throat, choking off any air. I was pushed back up against the wall so hard that the force knocked books off a shelf and onto the floor. My eyes widened in shock and I stared back into Clint's narrowed gaze. His eyes were red and glazed over from the alcohol as his grip tightened around my neck. My fingers clawed at his wrist in a desperate attempt to get him to release.

"Clint," I managed to squeak out with what air I had left. Tears burned and blurred my vision.

At the sound, Clint snapped out of it, realization flooding back into his pale face. His hand instantly let go and I slid down the wall, gasping for breath.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

My throat and back ached, bruises already forming from where Clint had thrown me up against the wall. The impact had made my head spin, the resulting headache throbbed dully and made my vision swim. I would be shocked if this was not what a concussion felt like. Clint stood tense above me, watching intently. As my vision straightened itself, I could see how conflicted he looked, like he was unsure if he should comfort me or run before I called the police.

I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet, holding my hands up in a surrendering position to show him I wasn't going to hit him or try anything. He watched me, hands shaking and fingers twitching towards me before he stopped himself from reaching out.

"Just let me go back to my apartment. I won't tell anyone about this. I shouldn't have come in here without your permission," my voice was raspy and each word felt like razors, "You can go back to your life doing...whatever _that_ was and we never have to speak again."

I don't know what Clint did for a living, but _that_ was not the reaction of an ordinary person. I knew something must have happened to him during the alien invasion, which was why he had those nightmares, but the way he had fended me off like I was a threat...it seemed like more than just fear or anger. He had experience hurting people. Clint was dangerous.

He remained silent as I slowly inched around him. I moved as slowly as I could to prevent him from being spurned into action again. His breathing had slowed, which I took as a sign that he was calming himself down. I walked towards the door, careful to keep my pace even and the panic contained. I could let myself break down when I got home and out of immediate danger.

My eyes darted around nervously. How had I not noticed any of this stuff when I first came in? There were red flags all over the room that should have tipped me off to the threat the man behind me could present. Knives and guns were mounted to the walls, row after row of lethal devices. At the center of his arsenal, a formidable looking bow was hung right over his couch. The boxes taped up and stacked were not from moving; they all had labels for different types of arrows scrawled across them. Explosive arrows, rope arrows, noise arrows.

I felt his stare on the back of my neck. How could the man that I had watched terrible movies with and slept so contentedly next to be the same person who had an armory of weapons in his living room? All of this was just a thin layer of wall away from me this entire time, yet he charmed me into thinking he was harmless.

"Lyra, please," a soft voice pleaded, breaking the silence and making me almost bolt, "Please, just stop for a minute."

My heart began to hammer faster as I heard his footsteps cross the room to stand behind me. I couldn't make myself turn around to face him. I didn't want to see that look in his eyes again, that rage. Five steps to the door. I could make it if I ran. If I wasn't fast enough though….all thoughts of trying to bolt were futile.

"I won't tell anyone," I whispered. Any louder and my voice would betray how afraid I really was.

He sighed and I could picture him running his hand through his hair the way he always does when he's frustrated, "Lyra, I am so sorry about hurting you. I never meant for anything like that to happen, I swear to you. Please, don't be afraid of me."

He sounded so small, almost like a child. My brain was shouting at me to leave. _I need to get out of here. I should go to the police. He's dangerous._ I stood, frozen, listening to his shallow breaths as he waited for me to respond. Not once did he make a move like he was going to grab me again or even come closer than I was comfortable.

"If you want to leave, you can. I won't stop you. I won't come after you. You have my word. I will _not_ hurt you, Lyra," his voice was heavy, thick like he was holding back his emotions from overwhelming him, "If think there is even the slightest possibility that you could ever forgive me, I will answer any of your questions. I'll explain it all to you. Whatever you want. I don't want to never see you again."

Images of waking up in his arms on the couch and telling each other corny jokes pushed the more sensible warnings out of my mind. Those moments had felt so _right_. It couldn't have all been an elaborate lie, there would be nothing for him to gain. I was a nobody, I had nothing worthwhile to steal or to manipulate. He could have hurt me a dozen times in the time we had spent together if that was his goal, but he hadn't. Clint _had_ made me feel safe and content since the moment we first spoke. The feelings had to have been real for him too.

I turned slowly to face him, my body already in motion before my brain had made the decision. Clint stood about two feet away from me, close enough to see every detail of his expression but far enough away that made it clear he was trying not to scare me again. His face was lined with pain, but his eyes softened when I met his stare. Tears reflected off the dim lights, but he still held his head high, determined to stay composed. This time, it was Clint who held his empty hands up submissively for me to see.

"Okay," was all I could get out, my voice hoarse.

We stood still for a few seconds, neither of us wanting to startle the other, "Let me get you some water. I'll be right back. Please don't leave."

It wasn't a threat. He was scared I would change my mind and disappear. Apprehension made his eyebrows knit together. I pointed over towards his couch in a silent agreement that I would be here when he came back.

He turned and hurried towards the kitchen, stopping to mute the television on his way past. After he disappeared into the next room, I found I was finally able to move my legs again. I slumped down onto the ancient, tattered purple couch and scooted as close to the armrest as possible. A loud shatter came from the kitchen, followed by a string of whispered curses as he fumbled with the glasses.

The television was the only source of light in the entire apartment. The news was on. The anchorman was talking as a slew of pictures from Loki's attack flashed by on the screen. That was all they wanted to talk about even months later. That and the Avengers, who had been the team that defeated the alien army and saved countless people.

Footage of the team played with the caption, "Avengers: Here to Stay?" People had filmed the superheros helping to rebuild the city. Iron Man and the newly revealed D. Banner were designing new skyscrapers that would be safer and more resistant to future attacks. Captain America was helping to repair people's homes. The Black Widow was reported to be searching for leads on anyone who might be sympathetic to Loki's cause. Even Thor was using his strength to clean up the rubble that still marred many of the streets.

Clint came back into the living room balancing a glass of water, a mug, and a full bottle of whiskey, "I wasn't sure might make you feel a little bit better, so I brought it all."

I barely registered his words. My eyes were glued to the television. Another had picture popped up on the screen with a new caption, "Hawkeye: The Missing Avenger."

"Oh shit."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

The face on the television was covered in dirt and ash. The man had a bow pulled taut in his arms, aiming at some unknown enemy out of frame. There was chaos all around him, but his face held no signs of stress. He looked completely calm and collected as he prepared to take his shot.

The next photo was of the same man, but this time something was different. Something was wrong. His eyes were a bright blue, too bright to be natural and almost glowing in vibrance. Loki stood in front of him in his full armor. It looked to be from his attack in Germany. The archer stood behind him, almost like a bodyguard. I heard a frustrated sigh off to the side next to me.

The image changed to a group picture of the Avengers, the archer now surrounded by the rest of the team at a crumbling restaurant. It must have been taken through the window after the battle was over; each person looking thoroughly exhausted and filthy, but relaxed. Without the costumes, they could have passed for any group of friends relieved to have made it through the chaos.

"Hawkeye," the word tumbled out when Clint finally grabbed the remote off the clutter coffee table and turned the television off.

The darkness was startling and my eyes couldn't adapt to it fast enough before Clint switched a lamp on beside the couch, blinding me temporarily. He settled back down onto the couch and stared straight ahead at the blank screen. I studied his face before moving down to his muscular arms and lean body. I knew he seemed familiar, but after Loki was taken back with Thor to face trial, the Avengers had taken a break for a while. The one they called Hawkeye had not returned with the rest of them to continue their work around the city, so many people either forgot about him or were suspicious of his true allegiance.

The press had never released the man's name. S.H.I.E.L.D, the agency that was made public in the wake of the attack, had been quick to suppress any leaks that could expose too much about the heroes. The rest of the team had been in and out of the news since then, but Hawkeye was a closely guarded secret. I had stopped watching the news shortly after the battle; the images were too painful a reminder of what had happened. The few photos of the "missing Avenger" that had been circulating back then were quickly forgotten as I tried to forget that day.

"That's not exactly how I planned for you to find out," Clint told me, still avoiding my eyes, "I hoped you _wouldn't_ find out."

I looked around his apartment again. The boxes of various arrows and the bow behind the couch made sense now. That would also explain why he was so secretive earlier when I asked him about his job. It all came together in a rush that left my head spinning. My hand fluttered up to the bruises on my neck. He may work with the Avengers, but _was_ he still one of them? Or were the rumors that he was still working for Loki true?

"This is why we always hung out at my place, huh?" I joked.

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly at that. He turned to look at me, but when he saw my fingers brushed against the bruises, his face fell again.

"What happened?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I was asking him about what happened earlier or what had happened that made him end up here instead of working with the rest of the Avengers. I suppose it was both.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he lamented again, "I was asleep. I had been upset about our fight earlier and I drank until I passed out. I took the hearing devices out while I was sleeping, I guess. I do that sometimes if I have a nightmare for some reason. When that bottle shattered, I realized someone was in the room and my training kicked in. I think I was still half asleep before I realized it was _you_ that I was choking and not one of those... _Chitauri_ bastards."

"Training?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, "Before the Avengers, before S.H.I.E.L.D, I was an assassin. I had been taught to shoot a bow, throw daggers, and shoot guns when I was little. A guy that took me in with the circus taught me and my older brother. As I got older, I started to use what I learned to make money as a freelance assassin. A couple years ago, someone from S.H.I.E.L.D recruited me after I took out one of their enemies before they could get their hands on him. I guess they thought I would be a good asset to have for when they needed a target eliminated and I could be watched the rest of the time to make sure I didn't take contracts for the wrong people. I was a bad person. I might still be. I _must_ be, if I did that to you."

Clint looked at the bruises again, regret written plainly across his face. The confident archer from the news report was a broken man in front of me now. The urge to reach over and stroke his face bubbled up inside me, but I quelled it immediately. As much as both of needed to be comforted right now, there were still more questions that needed to be addressed.

"Why are you living in a shitty little apartment by yourself? Did you quit? Do they know where you are?" I asked, unable to slow the questions before I blurted them out.

Clint laughed humorlessly, "S.H.I.E.L.D always knows where I am. Fury keeps tabs on everyone at all times."

The name sounded familiar, "Fury? The guy who runs S.H.I.E.L.D? The man with the eye patch and the face so stern that it stuck that way?"

He snorted, "Yeah, that's the guy. I should tell him that next time I see him….but yeah. After Thor took Loki back to Asgard, I made a deal with Fury to take some time off. I never thought he would agree to it, but after what happened with Loki, I guess he was afraid _not_ to. They were all nervous around me. Fury agreed to give me time off to "recover" and so he set me up with this apartment until I was ready to come back to work."

I almost hated to ask my last question, but I had to know, "What did Loki do to you?"

Clint didn't answer for a couple of minutes, but when he did, his voice was rough, "He used an object called the Tesseract to take control of my mind. It gave him access to every thought and memory in my head. He used that information to learn secrets about S.H.I.E.L.D. About my friends. Everything. Then he made me do things for him that I would never have agreed to otherwise, but I had no choice. I was trapped in my own head, doing whatever he asked me to do. He had me kill innocent people, so many people. I couldn't fight him. Natasha...the Black Widow...she knocked me over the head a few times pretty good and cut off the influence he had over me."

He grew silent, staring off as the events replayed in his head. I crawled across the couch closer to him and tentatively brushed the tips of my fingers down his forearm. He inhaled sharply and his muscles tensed, but I continued the motion lightly up and down. Slowly, he turned his arm over until his palm was facing upwards. My hand found his, intertwining our fingers. He let out the breath he had been holding in a shaky sigh.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked so softly that I wasn't sure if I had heard him at first.

"No," I didn't even have to consider my answer.

"Maybe you should be afraid," he replied, trying and failing to sound impartial, "Loki messed around in my mind. He could have changed something inside me and I don't even know it yet. I was a bad man before all of this happened anyway. Who's to say that I'm not still that guy? Or worse? I can't be sure of it myself."

"You're not a bad man," I brushed my hand down the side of his face and he leaned into the contact.

His eyes were sad as he looked back at me, "No one can know that for sure."

"I know it," I pulled Clint's face down to meet mine, lips meeting his to convince him of the truth I now felt as sure of as anything I had ever known.

* * *

 **I do try to keep the author's notes to a minimum because I know they get annoying for you readers. I just want to say thank you for reading this. I'm having a lot of fun with this story so far. I hope that the characters feel at least somewhat believable and not too over the top. Any reviews or suggestions are definitely helpful. I want to make sure this is as enjoyable to read as it has been for me to write!**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

 **I have never written a scene like this, so I am apologizing in advance for any awkwardness or weirdness there is. I'm slightly horrified to even have this read by anyone.**

* * *

"We can't lay here all day," I told him.

Clint made a noncommittal grunt in response. It was late the next morning and he was still in the process of waking up. I had stayed the night in his apartment for the first time and found that it was much less terrifying to be around all of his weapons now that I knew the truth. We were still laying on the couch, where we had slept through the night without either of us waking up from the nightmares.

I had tried to get him to sleep in his own bed last night, but he insisted that this was what he wanted. Clint told me that he had been terrible about relationships in the past, basically just rushing right into the physical aspects and then growing bored quickly before moving on to the next girl. After seeing my offended scowl, he was quick to explain that Captain America had been a bit of an influence on him and he no longer wanted to live that type of lifestyle. He wanted something meaningful, something that would last. The thought of Clint having a lot more experience when it came to sex was intimidating, but any insecure thoughts drifted away when he had pulled me into his arms.

"Aren't you ever going to stop sleeping? Isn't sleeping in against some rule in the Avengers handbook?" I poked him in the stomach.

He let out a low growl and pulled me closer to his chest. He continued to sleep, head rolled to the side and a soft snore escaping every once in a while. I tried to move. I could at least make us some food if he was going to sleep the rest of the day, though I would probably have to sneak back over to my place for anything edible.

Clint's hands gripped my shirt and wouldn't budge. A noise almost like a whine forced me to grit my teeth to keep from giggling at him. _Oh, this could be fun._

I lightly trailed my hand down the length of his chest. The muscles under his shirt were firm and toned from years of training. My fingers stopped at the bottom of his shirt, which I pulled up slightly. The newly exposed skin was warm to the touch, almost hot. My fingers traced patterns so gently that he didn't stir in his sleep at all. A slight quickening of his breathing was the only indication that I was having some effect on him. I had no intention of starting anything, especially after finding out that he wanted more than just a short fling, but if Clint was going to make me sit here all day because he wouldn't get up, I was going to have to do something to wake him up.

I let my hand drop down a little further, barely brushing the top of his pants, which were low on his hips already. His breath caught as I traced the sensitive skin along the edge of his jeans. Our positions were so close together that it was hard to ignore the increasing hardness pressed into my thigh. Clint's breath right above my head was heavy and uneven now, but he continued to sleep on. As much as I wanted to to trail further down to explore that hardness, I forced myself to reel my own arousal back in. After our mishap the night before, I did not want to ignore what we had discussed. He needed to wake up now though; I didn't think I could keep myself from acting on the desire to grind into him for much longer.

"Clint, wake up," I demanded, "I'm not sure your Captain friend would approve of what might happen if you don't let me off this couch right now."

At that, his eyes snapped open and he looked down at me in bewilderment. The movement of shifting back to look down made his hips push forward slightly, pressure building between us even more. The sensation made him groan immediately, spurring me to involuntarily grind against him. Clint's fingers suddenly knotted themselves in my hair roughly and he tilted my head back to find my lips in a feverish kiss. I moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. Every inch of my body tingled in a desire so intense that my skin felt like it was on fire. I nipped lightly on his bottom lip and found myself flipped suddenly onto my back, Clint never even leaving my lips as he pressed his hips against mine hard. The layers of clothing between our bodies was almost unbearable. I rubbed against his hardness, desperate for the friction there to continue.

He broke our kiss to slide his lips down to my neck. His breath against my racing pulse drove me crazy and I couldn't stop the low whine from escaping from the back of my throat. Clint growled at the sound and sucked lightly at the spot. My hands ran up his back to his broad shoulders and I rocked my hips against him a little harder. The front of his jeans were straining against his growing arousal and I could feel my own heat throbbing between my legs.

"Clint," I was trying to restart my brain and remember to not let this get too intense since we needed to stop, but the word came out in a tone full of lust rather than logic.

His lips found their way back to mine. I felt his hand playing with the bottom of my shirt for a second before sliding up to the bottom of my bra. He toyed with the sensitive skin on the underside of my breast. My back arched up to give him better access, the need to feel his hands under that last layer of clothing driving any logical thoughts that may have been left out of my mind. My own hand wandered between our bodies, urgently rubbing him through his pants. A deep moan made my stomach clench in excitement and he jerked his hips against my hand. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants as I made room for my hand to slip under his boxers to grasp his length for the first time. He bucked forward involuntarily and I pumped my hand teasingly slow, shocked to feel just how large he was under those tight jeans.

"Oh god, Lyra," his voice thick with want, his grip on my hair tightening and his other hand moved to cup my entire breast over the bra.

A shrill ring blasted through the air and Clint scrambled away from me. The sudden loss of contact almost made me cry out, but I found myself able to think more clearly and swallowed the lump in my throat. That was _definitely_ not taking things slow. Clint's face was flushed and his eyes were still darkened with lust, but he managed to button his pants back up with shaking hands and place a light kiss on my forehead.

He held the phone up to his ear, "Damn your timing, Cap."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with me," Steve stood and held out his hand for Clint to shake as he stepped up to the table, "I promise I won't keep you long. Romanoff has been worried about you, but she said you haven't been to see her at all. How have you been?"

Steve may be out of touch with a lot of things in this decade, but he had always been the most empathetic of the group. Maybe it was all those years of being bullied and teased before the serum or just a cultural difference between years, but he was always quick to pick up on someone's troubles. Clint sat down in the booth, feeling Steve's eyes examine for signs of distress.

"You seem...happy," the soldier wondered aloud, "The time off seems to be helping you. Will you be ready to come back to the team soon? I'm not sure if you heard the news or not, but Stark decided to rename his building Avengers Tower. He's made apartments for all of us to live in."

Clint snorted, "Why the hell would he want that?"

Tony Stark was not exactly known for being a family man; it was odd that he would want to have them all move in and live together like some sort of crime fighting Brady Bunch. Clint was about to make a joke about it, but realized Steve wouldn't exactly make the best audience for such a quip.

Steve shrugged, "He said it would be easier for us to train together and for us to all be ready right away if another big threat comes around."

" _When,_ " Clint correctly darkly.

"When a threat comes around," Steve agree, "Plus, I think this gives him an excuse to have us as guinea pigs to test his new gadgets on whenever he wants."

That sounded more like Stark. Visions of an apartment designed by the eccentric billionaire filled his mind. He could only imagine that the one meant for him was plastered with giant paintings of parakeets and elves. Stark enjoyed any chance he could find to torment Clint, whether it was in regards to his code name or the fact that he favored a bow over an ostentatious metal suit.

"I think I'll pass on that," Clint cringed, "Is that all you wanted to talk about? Or did Fury send you to drag me back for him?"

A flash of hurt flickered over Steve's face as he shook his head, "No, I didn't tell Fury I was meeting you. I'm sure he already knows because he always _does_ know everything, but I'm not his messenger boy. I'm not Stark's either, for what its worth. I just wanted you to know that there's a place already set up for you at the Tower whenever you decide to come back. You are still coming back, right? Eventually, at least?"

Clint sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He was beginning to feel even further away from the answer to that question than he had a few weeks ago. Lyra's face popped into his head and his stomach twisted. If he went back to work as an Avenger, what would that mean for him and Lyra? He knew the answer to that; Fury would make him cut all ties. There wasn't anything Fury could do to prevent Thor from seeing someone, but that was only because ties with Asgard were tenuous at best. Stark had Pepper, but they had already met long before he was Iron Man, so there was not much Fury could do about that either. Clint would not be allowed the same permission. The majority of his work was done in secret, but the marks were always the most dangerous and the possibility of one of them using Lyra to hurt Clint was too great of a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D's security.

"I don't know, Cap," Clint finally replied, "I have no idea what I'm going to do. Maybe my time with the team and the agency is passed."

That stunned Steve into silence for a moment, "Passed? Like you're stepping down? For good? Barton, we need you on our side. We never would have been able to to win against Loki if we hadn't had you fighting with us. You can't just _stop_ being an Avenger. All those tests came back clearing you for duty; Loki didn't leave any permanent damage when he was using your mind. You're ready to come back."

Clint felt slightly touched at the soldier's persistence. It was still an adjustment for him to have a group of people who were as close as the team had become. For so long, it had been just him and his older brother, but now he had other who seemed to want him around for reasons he didn't understand.

"It isn't that," Clint argued. That used to be his excuse for staying away after the invasion, but now… "I've met someone."

Steve blushed a little, always half a prude when it came to women, "Oh. Well...uhh...does Natasha know?"

Clint choked on the water he was sipping, "What? No, she doesn't, but why would she care? She's like a sister to me. I don't know why everyone always makes it weird that we're friends."

"I'm still a little confused by the dating rules of this time period," Steve admitted, "Stark had mentioned that he thought a woman might be the reason you were hiding out. He said that you 'needed a girl to pull your bow' to clear your head and then you'd be back. That's true then?"

His face burned red at the terrible attempt of a joke. Stark really did say every little thing that popped into his head. "No, whatever that nutcase said, he's full of shit. Actually, we haven't had sex yet."

Now Steve's face was bright red. He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously and looking around to see if anyone could hear their conversation. Talking about sex was a surefire way to make him uncomfortable, but Clint wasn't sure if it was because the other man was inexperienced or because these were topics that were avoided in "polite conversation" back in his day.

Clint continued, "I like her. _Really_ like her. After hearing you talk about Peggy and the way people did things back in the forties, I kind of started thinking about the relationships I've had in the past. Well, "relationship" would be a bit of an exaggeration. They were more one-night stands or quick flings. I think I might want more than that with this girl."

Steve beamed, looking almost like a proud father all of a sudden. It thoroughly creeped Clint out. "Wow, that's great! We'd all love to meet her. Natasha's going to want to see if she's good enough, I'm sure. We'll have to clear it by Fury probably, but…oh...that's why you don't want to come back yet."

Clint nodded, "I have to see what this is. Besides, everyone on the news always did say I was the worst Avenger. No one would miss Hawkeye. You guys don't need me."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

"Are you alright?" I asked again.

I had already repeated myself so many times that I had lost track of how many that one made. Clint had been been...off...today. We hadn't known each other more than a few weeks, so I wouldn't say that I was an expert on what was "normal" for him necessarily, but something was different. He seemed preoccupied the entire morning, habitually running his hand through his hair and sighing when he thought I didn't notice. Each time I asked him about it, he would give me the same answer.

"I'm fine, really," he didn't even try to make it sound convincing this time.

Last night, he had gone out for a while. He said he was meeting a friend to talk, but clearly whatever the meeting had been about was troubling him. I suspected it must have been something to do with the Avengers, but I wasn't sure if I should ask. I tried to convince myself that I was avoiding the subject because he was supposed to keep that information classified, but a small part of me knew it was because I was afraid of what he would tell me. I was afraid that he had been given orders to return to work. We hadn't talked about what would happen when he went back or what it would mean for us. I was too scared to ask.

This time, the frustrated sigh came from me. Clint was staring at the television, but his eyes were glazed over and distant. I hadn't seen him look so far away since that first night on the fire escape. The sadness haunting him made me ache deep in my chest. I scooted closer to him and slid my hands around his body, pressing my face into his shoulder and kissing him through his shirt. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself pulled onto his lap, straddling him as he sat. I looked into his eyes, expecting to see the lust for the other day, but his expression was instead one of uncertainty.

"What can I do?" I pleaded, "If you can't tell me what's bothering you, can you at least tell me what I can do to help?"

Clint shook his head and smiled sadly, "You _are_ helping."

Leaning forward, I tentatively placed my lips onto his. He responded immediately, parting his lips to move against mine slowly. Instead of the frantic urgency from before, this kiss was gentle and intimate. The softness of it made my stomach flutter. Clint's rough fingers caressed the side of my face lightly. I pulled away a few seconds later, but stayed close enough to lean my forehead against his. Already he looked more relaxed than he had earlier.

"We should go do something today," I suggested.

"We _are_ doing something," he laughed, pulling me in for another kiss.

After another minute or so, I interrupted, "I'm serious. We've been staying holed up in here too much. We should go somewhere."

"I'm perfectly happy to stay right here all day and make sure you don't move from this spot," he tickled my sides, earning him a quick jab in the chest.

I shook my head, "Nope, you're the one that imposed our 'no rushing' rule, so you have to deal with it. You can't be a hermit forever."

Clint looked like he was about to argue that fact, but I was already up and pulling my shoes on before he could retaliate. I tossed his shoes at him wildly, but his reflexes were no match for my throwing skills. He followed me to the door, stopping me after I shrugged on a coat.

"People might recognize me," he said, worry lacing the statement.

I paused to think for a second, "Hold on. I have a plan."

Holding up a finger for him to wait, I rushed out the door and over to my own apartment. It took a couple of minutes of rummaging, but I found what I was looking for. He raised an eyebrow at me when I returned to his side, holding out a knit hat and purple and black scarf. Clint leaned forward enough for me to put them on for him, without so much as a complaint.

"Well?" he asked.

I stood back from him in mock observation, "You still look like Clint Barton."

He snorted, "You plan sucks."

I grabbed his wrist and yanked him out the door. He could whine and stomp his feet all he liked, but sitting around inside all the time was not going to help him to feel better. He was so afraid of being out in public and being noticed that he needed a reminder of what he was missing.

* * *

"Remind me what we're doing out here again?" Clint asked.

After walking for about twenty minutes, we were now in one of the most isolated parts of Central Park. It was in one of the far corners that most people didn't visit, which meant that one a snowy day like this, we were the only people around. Contrary to what Clint believed, I _did_ have a plan all along. Childish or not, I figured we both needed some time to blow off some steam and have a little fun.

"What do _you_ think we're doing?" I asked, stopping a few feet away from him.

He rubbed his chin in thought, "Did you bring me out here to murder me? I know you refrained from stabbing me when we met, but maybe you can't control those urges?"

"How did you know?" I laughed, "Nothing surprises you, does it, Mr. Superhero."

Before he could open his mouth, I pelted him with the snowball that was hidden behind my back. It knocked him square in the face, making him sputter. I bent over in laughter, holding my sides.

"Lightning fast reflexes you have there," I teased.

Clint straightened back up and stared back at me, "I'm also pretty quick."

He launched himself at me, knocking me backwards into the snow. I landed on my butt, but he cushioned the fall carefully and let me wriggle away to chase me. Our snowball fight lasted until we both found ourselves soaked from the melting snow and shivering. The walk back was brutal and my body was convinced it would never be warm again. I couldn't quite bring myself to regret the outing, but I would hold out judgement when I was sure I didn't have frostbite. The tired smile fixed to Clint's face was enough to be pleased with my idea.

* * *

By the time we got to the apartment building, my hands were shaking so violently that I couldn't get the key into the lock. After the third time dropping them to the floor, Clint pried them out of my hands and opened it for me. He seemed less bothered by having wet clothes freeze in the frigid air. I shuffled stiffly into the living room.

"So cold," I chattered, not even thinking clearly anymore.

"If we would have stayed home, you wouldn't be a human popsicle right now," he reminded me, jokingly, "Go take a hot shower. I'll go change and sneak back in your window."

I couldn't make my feet move. Now that I was inside, my skin burned as feeling returned. I couldn't ever remember being this cold. Clint saw that I was still stationary, worry spreading over his face.

"Come on, I'll help you," he tugged the zipper down on my coat and pulled the wet clothing off my shoulders.

His hand on my back, I was steered into the bathroom carefully. Clint turned the shower on and returned to my side. His hands at the hem of my shirt, he looked at me for permission. I nodded and held my arms up for him to drag my shirt up and over my head. He let it fall to the tile, trying desperately not to look too much at the sight of me in a bra. The struggle was written all over him, but I had to smile at the effort. His hands moved to my jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, trying not to linger. The wet fabric clung to my legs, making me have to hold onto his arms to balance myself so I could kick them off. Steam was beginning to fog up the bathroom, the hot air making my body tingle after being numb for so long.

Now in nothing but my underwear, I was painfully aware of how much clothing Clint still had on. I looked up at him. I suddenly felt a rush of self-consciousness when I realized this was the first time he had seen me almost naked. I couldn't keep the blush from reddening my face.

"Thank you," I whispered.

His jaw was tense, eyes a shade darker than normal as he tried desperately to keep his stare on my face and not wander downwards. He gave me a curt nod, swallowing hard. I pulled my hair from the braid I had thrown it in, letting it fall over my shoulders. I couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction at the effect I seemed to be having on the man before me. His eyes slowly looked over my body and I noticed his breathing quicken.

"I know you don't want to rush into having sex too soon, but there _are_ other things…" I trailed off.

His gaze snapped up to meet mine, desire burning into me. I moved to close the gap between us and his shirt found itself next to mine on the floor. I ran my hands up his chest to wrap them around his neck. He clumsily stepped out of his pants, lips never leaving mine. I moaned at the feeling of his skin finally against mine. His hands rubbed along the strap of my bra until he reached the clasp, but waited until I nodded before unhooking it. I let the straps fall from my shoulders and pressed my chest against his fully. He growled into my mouth, reaching between us to cup one my breasts for the first time. I gently tugged his boxers down along with my own underwear, finally without any barrier between us. His hardness pressed against my upper thigh, making me almost unbearably hot with desire.

A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me to slow things down a little bit, so I broke apart from our kiss. Clint's low moan of frustration made me smile as I turned him around to press his back against the counter. I kissed my way down his neck to his chest, then lower as I knelt down in front of him. I looked up at him as I took him in my hand, pumping back and forth slowly. His head tipped back, mouth falling slightly open in a silent moan. I used my tongue to trace his tip, feeling him grow even harder. I smirked at his response before taking him in my mouth fully, still moving at a purposefully lazy pace. His hips bucked involuntarily in a need for more. His fingers wound themselves in my hair, gripping tightly but not too rough.

"Lyra," he moaned, "I can't hold on much longer."

I gazed up at him through my eyelashes, but kept going despite his warning. His breath became increasingly ragged as I quickened my pace until his grip tensed and held me in place as he finally let go.

After a few seconds, I stood up. I suddenly felt nervous. What if that was too soon? The thought of this becoming just a fling that Clint would soon tire of was racing through my mind, but he quieted my worries by pulling me toward him gently. He wrapped his arms around my waist, placing a content kiss to my temple before leading me into the shower behind him.

* * *

 **Hopefully this wasn't too cringe-worthy. I made sure it was a long chapter overall to make up for it, if that was the case.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

A few hours after getting dressed, I was already finding myself worried that I had pushed Clint away with what I had done. He seemed lost in thought again, staring up at the ceiling as we laid in my bed. He hadn't spoken since we got out of the shower. Doubt gnawed at my stomach as I struggled with what to do.

"I'm sorry," I offered, after what felt like hours.

He looked over, face scrunched in confusion, "Why? Do you wish you hadn't done that now? I didn't pressure you into it somehow, did I?"

I was surprised by the hurt hidden in his words. I studied his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He rolled to his side and brushed my hair over my shoulder.

"I don't want you to get bored of me," I whispered. I felt stupid saying the words aloud, but that didn't make them any less true.

His smile caught me off guard, "I don't think you have to worry about that, Lyra. You better not get bored of _me_ after I repay you for that."

I blushed at his words and moved to lay closer to him. I put my head on his chest, curling into him. His heartbeat sounded underneath me, soothing and relaxing me until I felt my eyes begin to close.

"I met with Steve Rogers yesterday," he said out of the blue, "Captain America? That's who I saw when I went out."

My stomach clenched, eyes popping open, "Oh." It was all I could manage to say. Since finding out who he really was, I had been worrying myself sick about the day that Clint would leave to go back to the Avengers. Of course, when that time came, I would let him go without a fight; the world needed him and it would be unfair to make him stay with me. His fingers softly running up and down my back did little to comfort me.

"He said they all want me to come back," Clint continued, "Apparently Stark has an apartment all set up for me already at his tower."

My heart fell. I blinked back tears, angry with myself at how attached I had already become to a man who I knew was always destined to leave eventually.

"When will you be moving?" I asked, when I was sure that my voice would not betray just how devastated I felt inside.

Clint sighed heavily, "I don't know that I am. I told Steve that I wasn't sure if I would be going back."

That made me sit up, "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, "I'm not sure that I want to go back to that life. I've done so many terrible things. Hurt so many people. After what happened with Loki, I realized that I could have hurt the people closest to me. I don't want to have a life where I can't be close to someone because I might hurt them on a mission or something. I'm tired of being alone. I've been running from one place to another since I was little being bounced from one foster home to another. I can't do it anymore."

"You were never alone," I told him, "The other Avengers, they're your family. I'm sure they miss you and want you to come back."

He gave me a sad smile, "I'm not sure they feel that way after I was on the wrong side for most of the battle. I know they don't mean to, but they all still look at me like I'm going to break any second. I don't have a place with them anymore. Besides, if I go back to work for S.H.I.E.L.D, we can't be together. I don't want to give you up."

I laced my fingers with his and stared up at him, "I don't want you to leave either, but I always knew you would. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. You're too good at what you do to not go back. People need you to protect them the next time some crazy god or robot or whatever tries to take over the world. You're just important as Iron Man or the Hulk or any of the rest of them. I can't be the reason that you stop being Hawkeye. I'm not more important than the good you do when you're an Avenger."

He sighed, but didn't reply. His arms pulled me tight to his side again and he held me like he never wanted to let go.

* * *

Lyra had drifted off to sleep a few hours ago, but Clint was as wide awake as ever. As amazing as today had been, it had made his decision even harder to make. He thought back to his meeting with Steve, who had seemed eager for Clint to come back to the Tower with him right then. Natasha had asked him when he might be coming back, but she was always careful to give him enough space so he didn't feel pressured. She never was one for personal conversations, even with him. Steve, on the other hand, was less impersonal and far more difficult to evade in one on one conversation.

Clint had only been able to leave once Steve had gotten him to agree to one condition. Steve had given him one month to make his decision. He had one month to figure out what he wanted. Steve told him Fury was biting at the bit to drag Clint's ass back himself, but he was willing to give him more time on the condition that there was a deadline to the wait. He supposed it was only fair; he had already taken more time off than anyone was ever granted by the agency before and his absence was becoming inconvenient. If Clint wanted out, S.H.I.E.L.D would need to find a suitable replacement for the trained assassin.

His work was all he had ever known. He was good at what he did. Finding his mark, waiting for the perfect time to strike, and finishing the job with precision. Clint was grateful to Fury for the opportunity he was given when he was asked to join the Avengers. Finally, he could use his skills for something other than S.H.I.E.L.D's orders to take out a rogue threat to the general population. He was part of something bigger than just himself, something that made a real difference.

The rest of the Avengers had become a family to him, which was something he had never had before. His childhood had been a lonely one. Sure, he had his older brother to rely on, but moving from foster home to foster home had been difficult. They had never stayed in one home for longer than a few months and had lived on the streets more than a couple of times. By the time the man from the fair had taken them in, Clint wasn't even sure what a _home_ was anymore. He traveled around with the circus, learning tricks to entertain the crowds and make a little money, but he still never felt like he belonged with them either. Joining the Avengers had been the first time in his life that Clint felt truly close to a group of people.

Losing that companionship after Loki had tampered with his mind was devastating. They had all tried to tell him that it didn't change anything; it wasn't his fault, they said, no one would have been able to fight off the Tesseract's effects. He listened when they insisted that they trusted him even after he told Loki all their secrets against his will, but he didn't believe them. He could see it in each one of their eyes that he made them nervous. He made _himself_ nervous when he thought about the things he had done.

The woman next to him shifted in her sleep. Her fingers curled into his shirt and pulled him closer as she buried her face into his side. He looked down at her, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face. Clint lightly ran his fingers through her hair and grinned when she sighed without waking. Lyra was going to make his decision next to impossible. It was all he could do to stop himself from making up his mind right then and there and never leave her side.

As much as he wanted to, Clint knew he needed to at least give it until Steve's deadline before he made his choice. Steve had made sure that Clint knew that once he gave his answer, there would be no going back. Whatever he decided to do, there would be no going back.

* * *

 **I just wanted to say thank you for all the awesome reviews and feedback! It really is helpful to know what you guys like and don't like. It also makes me feel a lot better to know that certain parts aren't as cringe-inducing as I had feared. I'm happy to know that there are people who actually want to read this story because I'm having a lot of fun writing it so far!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

"I've been thinking about something lately," I mused aloud, swinging the hand that was intertwined with Clint's as we walked down the street.

Since our hazardous snowball fight a few days ago, Clint had been slightly more willing to venture out into public. I had convinced him to go get some pizza earlier today and now we were walking under the streetlights, just enjoying the small flurries that were getting started.

"Are you sick of me already?" he asked, playing it off like a joke, but I picked up on the worry buried underneath.

"Not quite, but I will be if you don't stop stealing the pepperoni off my pizza," I reassured him, "No, I was wanting to ask you something, but I don't want you to be angry with me."

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, "Okay…"

My words came out in a rush, "Could you teach me to shoot a bow?"

A booming laughing made me jump. Clint was almost doubled over in hysterics, which got worse any time he tried to stop and look at me. I waited, tapping my foot impatiently until he composed himself and we began walking again. Small chuckles broke out every once in a while, but he was able to keep a straight face again for the most part.

"Why would that make me angry?" he asked in bewilderment.

I shrugged defensively, "You never want to talk about any of that stuff. I didn't know if that was a sore subject for you like the rest of the Avenger stuff."

Clint shook his head, "That's not an Avenger thing. Shooting a bow is _mine_ , not something S.H.I.E.L.D or anyone else has anything to do with. It's the one thing that I love to do. I'd be happy to teach you to shoot."

"Can we start tomorrow?" a rush of excitement making me practically bounce, "Or we could go and get your bow right now and try it?"

His silence made me stop bouncing, looking his direction with a frown. His eyes were carefully avoiding mine and his mouth was turned downwards. I predicted the hand he pushed through his hair before he even held it up.

"Forget it," I brushed off. I tried to keep any hint of embarrassment out of my voice, but I knew I wasn't totally successful. Here I was, giddy with excitement over something he had been able to do for years and I was acting like a complete child.

Clint pulled me quickly into a hug, kissing the top of my head and burying his face in my hair. It took me a moment to realize he was holding back laughter, but when I did, he got a swift punch in the arm. I stepped away from him to glare.

"I'm sorry," he said through chuckles, "I didn't mean to upset you. I _do_ want to teach you. I was just trying to figure out how to say that you couldn't use _my_ bow without sounding like a total ass."

"You're still failing," I told him flatly.

He grinned sheepishly, "Give me some slack here. I'm an assassin, not a poet, remember? You can't use it because it won't work for you. Each bow is tightened to be accurate for a specific person. It would be impossible for you to pull it back, let alone try to learn to shoot with it. I would adjust it for you, but I kind of need that one for work. Or at least I did."

"So...what you're saying is I have weak little arms, huh?" I joked, smiling to show him that I wasn't actually angry with him.

Clint shook his head and widened his eyes dramatically, "Oh no, not at all. You're absolutely terrifying. I'm sure you could take Cap in a fight with one hand behind your back."

At that, I gave him a good punch. He pretended to almost be knocked over and flailed ridiculously, "Besides, I've already been looking at a good starter bow for you anyway. I was going to order one for you a few days ago, but I was trying to figure out if you would be freaked out by that or not. I even had a whole secret plan for showing you how to shoot."

I raised an eyebrow, "What does that mean?"

Clint took my hand and began leading me back to the apartment building, "I think it means that you might need to call in sick for the next couple of days."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I am SO sorry that this took so long to get out and that it is shorter than I usually write for this story. I wanted to make sure I got you guys an update in some form as soon as I could. There is more to come though, so don't worry!**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

"Can I know where we're going yet?" I asked for the billionth time.

Clint shook his head, "We're almost there, I promise. If you ask me that again though, I might have to push you out of the car."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and continued to watch the trees go by outside. Clint's truck bounced down the rocky dirt road, but I couldn't help but feel completely comfortable next to the man beside me.

We had been in the car for a few hours. Clint had woken me before the sun came up and dragged me out into the cold still half asleep. His truck was already packed with bags for the two of us, as well as supplies. Any attempts to get him to explain what exactly he meant by _supplies_ failed. The heater in his truck was broken, so I inched over even more and cuddled closer to stay warm. Clint let out a contented sigh, but didn't say anything. He had been unusually quiet the entire trip; not angry or anything, but it seemed like he was thinking something over in his head and was lost in his own thoughts.

I must have dozed off again because the low screech of the brakes startled me awake. I sat up, eager to find out where exactly we had ended up. I leaned forward to take in the clearing we were now parked in. A small cabin stood directly in front of the truck; it was nestled amongst the trees like it had always been there. Off to one side of the clearing, battered archery targets sat backed up to the rest of the woods.

"It isn't anything fancy," Clint's voice was full of uncertainty, "I hope this is okay. If this isn't really your thing, we can go somewhere else." His nervousness made him look years younger, almost like a child. He was staring down at the steering wheel, tapping his fingers anxiously and biting his lip.

I scoffed, " _You_ can go check yourself into a fancy hotel. I'm staying here, thank you very much."

I slid over the seat and was out the door before he could even respond. I had grown up in New York City and the loud crowded streets were all I knew. The opportunity to experience something other than skyscrapers and taxi cabs was new and exciting to me. I heard Clint get out of the truck and follow me to the door. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet impatiently as he fiddled with the keys to unlock the door.

"It's nothing special," Clint said nervously, pushing the door open with a tiny creak.

I shoved him lightly and walked in. The cabin was small, but cozy. It had a little fireplace in the center of its one room. A little kitchen was off to one side, complete with a tiny table and two chairs. In one corner of the room, a bed was nestled next to a window overlooking a winding creek that ran behind the cabin.

Clint was standing cautiously behind me, not saying a word. Putting my arms around him, I hugged him tightly and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I could feel the tension in his body relax; he must have gotten himself all worked up thinking I would run away screaming at the first sight of a tree outside of the city.

An image of the archery targets outside flashed through my mind, "This place is yours?"

He pulled away and smiled tentatively at me, "It sure is. I bought it a few years ago right after I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I haven't been here much in the past couple of months though. It's a little too quiet here all alone and after what Loki did...well Fury didn't think I should be completely alone with my thoughts just yet."

"I love it," I told him, "I might move in here when you're not looking."

Clint laughed, "Well it doesn't always look like this, so you might rethink that. I came up here a few days ago and cleaned up so it wouldn't look like something out of a horror movie. Oh, and so I could hide something from you until we could come here."

My eyes widened in surprise. Clint hurried over to the bed and crouched down, pulling a huge box out from underneath. He brushed some dust off of the top of it sat it on top of the bed. He waved his hand excitedly to signal for me to follow.

"You're just full of surprises this week, aren't you? A secret trip and then a box big enough for me to lay in? I hope the parade you have planned next has enough balloons or I'll know you're starting to get lazy," I joked, blushing.

He took the top of the box off, revealing a bow. It was smaller than the one in his apartment and looked brand new. It was slender, black with purple details. I gently picked it up and held it carefully in front of me, somewhat awkwardly despite my best efforts.

"Do you like it?" Clint asked.

I beamed up at him, "Of course I do. Its beautiful. But wait, didn't you say that you were _thinking_ about buying me one, but hadn't yet? But if you came out here days ago…"

He grinned sheepishly, "I may have bought it right before I came out here. Sorry, lying is kind of a habit after working for S.H.I. ."

"Ah yes, that's exactly what everyone wants to hear their boyfriend say," I chuckled, the sound cut short when I realized what I had called him. We certainly hadn't discussed _that_ yet. My brain tried to catch up, whirling around in circles to think of what to say to cover my mistake up, but it came up blank.

A hand lightly tugged on the sleeve of my coat, turning me to face Clint. My face was burning with embarrassment. His finger gently nudged my chin up, eyes meeting mine for a second before his lips crashed down onto mine. The kiss must have only lasted for a few seconds, but it sent tingles all down my spine.

Finally he pulled away, "I'll work on that for you. No more lies, I swear it."

* * *

We spend the entire afternoon outside in the crisp air. I barely even felt the cold as Clint patiently tried to teach me to shoot my new bow. I had started off as horrible as could be. At one point, I almost sent an arrow through the windshield of his truck. The process was frustrating and my fingers felt numb from a mixture of the cold and the strain of the bow, but after a few hours, I was able to at least hit the target most of the time.

"So you're going to let me shoot an apple off the top of your head tomorrow, right?" I laughed.

"Absolutely," the sarcasm dripping from his voice as we walked back into the cabin and out of the increasingly cold evening air.

Clint went over to the fireplace and had a fire going within minutes while I made us some hot tea. The room felt warmer almost immediately. We both flopped down on the couch in front of the fire, sipping tea and leaning against each other. It was peaceful; there was no need to talk as we watched the fire crackle and sat, both of us comfortably exhausted.

"I could stay here like this forever, I think," I whispered, quickly getting sleepy. I nuzzled closer into Clint's chest and closed my eyes.

His arms pulled me closer, "I could too."

Clint's body tensed all of a sudden. My eyes shot open and I sat up in alarm. Through the windows, light began flooding in. Headlights. Someone had driven down the dirt driveway miles into the woods right when it was getting dark. My heart started racing. Normally, I was already cautious of strangers, but I knew Clint had enemies from being an assassin and if he was caught off guard, this wasn't someone he was expecting.

"You stay here," Clint warned in a low voice.

His hand shot down between the couch and the side table, pulling out a gun taped to the underside of the wood. He rose slowly, moving silently as he moved towards the door with the gun trained at head level. He stopped before he made it to the entrance, waiting for more sounds of movement from outside.

A deep voice yelled out, "Barton, drop that gun and get your ass out here."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the story so far. I always love seeing new reviews for this story and feedback is always very much appreciated. I love to know what you guys think!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

"I mean it, Barton, either get your ass out here or let me in," the voice demanded, "It's too damn cold out here for this."

My pulse was racing, drumming in my ears as a course of adrenaline surged through my body. I watched as Clint put his arms down, gun at his side. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling and sighed, exasperated. I wasn't sure what to think of the scene before me. It didn't seem like the man outside was a threat, but he clearly wasn't someone Clint wanted to have knocking at his door either. I stood still, unsure of what to do.

Clint groaned, "This is just _perfect_."

He moved to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open roughly before turning back to stand in front of me, almost protectively. The man stalked inside and shut the door, hunched over from the cold and looking just as bitter. The man was tall, intimidating in his full length black trench coat and black gloves. The most notable feature was the lack of one eye, covered up by a black eyepatch. The man turned his one eye towards me, narrowing it in suspicion before turning back to Clint.

"Was the gun necessary?" the man questioned.

Clint clenched his jaw, "Are the six guys you have surrounding the house necessary?"

My eyes darted towards the windows, but I couldn't see anything outside other than the glaring brightness of the headlights. The man cracked a small grin and shrugged his shoulders, a casual gesture that didn't quite extend to his hard stare.

"What do you want?" Clint growled.

"Now, there's no need to be rude, Agent. I don't think I know your friend here," the man said pointedly. His polite demeanor held an underlying danger; this was a man who did not enjoy not knowing something and he had not expected someone to be here with Clint.

"I find that hard to believe," Clint scoffed, "You've obviously been tracking me. You followed me here, so I'm guessing you've been monitoring me this entire time. Let me guess, GPS tracking device on my truck? Cameras monitoring my apartment building, if not the inside of the apartment? Agents dressed in civilian clothes checking up on me from afar? That sound about right?"

"You make me sound like a bad guy," the man said, "You know that S.H.I.E.L.D employs a lot of dangerous people. We have to keep track of all our agents. With all the run ins with H.Y.D.R.A lately, we can't be too careful, can we? Our systems showed you leaving the city and coming here earlier today, which would have been fine a couple months ago, but all things considered, it raised some red flags."

"Red flags?" Clint's anger was written all over his body. His shoulders were tense, back as straight as a soldier's. His jaw was tight from clenching his teeth and his hands were made into white knuckled fists, "I'm not going to go rogue and start murdering innocent bystanders, for fuck's sake. This is my property and I should not have to check in with you any time I want to come here."

"That wasn't part of the agreement," he said, a tone like he was reminding a second grader, "We had terms that we both agreed on. You were granted a significant amount of time off to get your shit together and you were supposed to report your whereabouts. I've been pretty damn lenient with you, despite your lack of communication for the majority of your time away. If you were any other S.H.I.E.L.D agent pulling this shit, you'd be turning in your badge right now."

"Oh, I see, you were keeping check on one of your pawns," Clint shot back, "Obviously I'm not at the center of a massacre or offing myself out here, so you don't have to go back to headquarters to find a new assassin to do your dirty work."

The man shook his head and looked almost sad, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Barton. I've been covering for your ass for months to give you the time you need. I'm not your enemy. If I didn't come out here to make sure you were fine, you would have had the rest of the Avengers blowing the roof off to 'rescue' you within hours."

Clint sighed, but relaxed slightly, "Yeah, Stark would have demolished the whole cabin, huh?"

The man laughed, "I can't promise Romanoff won't still kick your ass. I think I managed to keep my drive out here a secret from the rest of them, but I'm sure she knew before I even turned the keys in the ignition. I'd watch my back when you get back to the city, if I were you."

I stared at the two men, utterly confused at how the entire situation had played out. A minute ago they were almost at each other's throats and now they were joking like friends while I stood in the background, trying to stay quiet.

"Miss Ridley, I do apologize for meeting you like this. I'm Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D," the man stepped forward and held out his hand for me to shake, "I hope I didn't scare you barging in like this."

I shook my head, but couldn't think of what to say. The only thing going through my mind was that Clint had been right. They _had_ been monitoring his apartment. This man knew my name without me volunteering it. If they had been monitoring Clint this whole time, they would have been monitoring me these past few weeks. Our post-snowball fight shower was not exactly rated PG, had that been recorded and reviewed by S.H.I.E.L.D somehow? My face turned bright red at the thought.

Fury chuckled, "Don't worry, Miss Ridley, S.H.I.E.L.D is very good at being discreet. I will send some of my men to remove the recording devices from Agent Barton's apartment as soon as we leave."

"Oh my god," I groaned, running my hand over my face in dismay.

Fury smirked and looked back to Clint, "Well, I'll leave you two to get back to your evening."

Clint followed him to the door. I stood rooted to the spot, still too shocked and appalled at the notion of being tracked and recorded. I felt completely out of my depth.

Before going out the door, Fury paused, "You should bring her to the Tower soon. Let her meet the rest of the team and see what your life is usually like. You only have a few weeks left before you have to decide what you want to do. I think she should at least know the whole picture before you make your decision for the both of you."

He turned and shut the door behind him with a click. A few seconds later, the sound of tires driving off cut through the silence. The cabin grew dark in the absence of the headlights outside, the fireplace was the only source of light and it cast shadows across Clint's expression as he turned back to me.

"I'm sorry about that," Clint apologized, stepping towards me, "I knew they were tracking my truck and the outside of the building, but I should have realized they would do the same inside. I'm so sorry. I swear, I'll get any recordings they have and destroy them."

I waved him off, "A few weeks left to decide _what?_ "

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Any feedback is always appreciated. Is the pacing of the story okay? I'm having a hard time deciding if I'm going too slow or rushing things. Hope you liked it!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

"A few weeks to decide _what_?" I repeated, growing impatient. After our conversation about being honest with each other, being left in the dark about something so soon already felt like a knife in my chest. We hadn't even made it an entire day before failing on that front.

Clint's eyes shifted, evasively. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet and avoided my direct stare. After a few long minutes of tense silence, I sighed in frustration and shook my head. Disappointment bloomed in the pit of my stomach. I turned on my heel and quickly grabbed the duffle bag of my belongings off the bed before coming back to stand in front of the door, looking straight ahead without emotion.

I would not allow myself to overreact in front of him. I knew the moment that I found out who Clint really was that our relationship would never be normal. There would be things he might not be allowed to tell me or times he had to go off on missions without being able to contact me. We had never discussed it, but I felt like we didn't need to; I had always felt that his job as an Avenger should come first and I was willing to work with that. But this...to have those secrets flaunted right in front of me by a stranger was too much. Fury had made it sound like whatever Clint was keeping from me, it was something that was not classified by S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint had decided to hide whatever it was on his own account. I was _not_ okay with that.

"Is there enough cell service out here to call a cab?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Please don't leave," Clint pleaded, "Let me explain. If you still want to leave afterwards, I will drive you back myself."

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly turned and sat on the couch. I felt, rather than saw, Clint take a seat next to me, keeping a cautious distance. I remained silent; allowing him time to organize his thoughts and explain yet another part of his complicated situation.

"Fury was saying… What he was talking about…" Clint stammered, "Do you remember when I told you that if I went back to S.H.I.E.L.D, I would not be allowed to see you anymore? I had been trying to think of some way around that, some way that maybe we could keep our relationship a secret from them. I was also trying to decide if I wanted to go back to them at all. Maybe staying with you and leaving all of that behind was the right choice. Either way, I thought I had more time, but when I met with Steve, he told me that Fury had put a deadline on my leave from work. I could either go back to work at the end of that time or I would be done with S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers for good. Fury knows about you, Lyra. He knows about _us._ I can't keep what we have a secret from them; I never could, I should have realized that. I can't see anyway around it. They're _making_ me choose."

He stopped talking, breathing heavily from rushing all of it out. His words echoed in my mind as I tried to process the situation. I was never good at dealing with relationships or having personal conversations. My brain was fighting to switch itself off, to not have to feel any of the emotions his words were forcing out of me.

"Why did Fury say you should take me to the Tower? Does he mean Stark Tower? Why? To rub my face in the fact that you'll have this entire life without me and there's nothing we can do to change that?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Clint shook his head, "I think Fury thought it might make it easier on you in some weird way. The guy doesn't see things the way everyone else does. He thinks that if you see that I have a job that allows me to help people, to save them, that maybe it won't feel like we are being kept apart for no reason. He sees the Avengers as being bigger than the needs of the people on the team; its bigger than whatever we think we might want in our lives because people will always need to be protected from some evil force out there and we are the only ones who can do it. The responsibility of it all is almost more than any of us can take on, let alone ask someone to take on with us."

Blinking away tears, I told him, "It sounds like you've made the decision already. I don't need to go see that for myself. I can see it right now in front of me."

"I haven't decided," he exclaimed emphatically, "How can I? It is an impossible situation and I lose either way. Fury said you should get a say in what happens. This doesn't just affect me anymore. Tell me what I should do. Tell me that it's okay if I pick you over everything else."

The pain in his voice startled me and I looked over to meet his eyes. The tears I had been holding back spilled over, falling down my cheeks and making me feel exposed. His own expression was twisted in conflict, seeming to waver between pleading for me to speak and wanting not wanting to hear what I might say.

I wanted to tell him to stay with me. I wanted to be selfish and tell him to leave S.H.I.E.L.D, to stop being an Avenger. The thought of telling him otherwise made me sick. I wished we could stay in this cabin and never leave. At the same time, the images that had been plastered all over the news after the alien attack on the city twisted my stomach in guilt. How could I put what I wanted over the needs of countless lives if something like that happened again? Clint had been made an Avenger for a reason; he was good at what he did and could make a real difference. I would be just as evil as one of the villains he had faced if I kept him from doing that.

"Clint," I started in a whisper.

His lips crashing into mine interrupted my words. His mouth moved against mine frantically, the heat rolling off of him and making my head swim. The kiss was urgent, our bodies desperately trying to make the decision for us. I felt his hand reach up to tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer against him, while the other held the side of my face.

It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to pull away from him. I leaned my forehead against his, breathing heavily and looking right into his eyes. His expression was pleading once more. What was left of my heart finally shattered completely.

"You can't quit. You have to go back to them, Clint," I whispered.

A look of anguish flashed across his features for a split second before he wiped it away and stood, "I'll drive you back to your apartment. I'll start packing my things tonight."

* * *

 **Thank you to all the people who take the time to read and review this story! That always makes my day better when I get a notification about a review or a message. Thank you! I wasn't overly fond of this chapter myself. I just couldn't quite get it to sound right, but I needed it to keep the plot moving, so stick with me!**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

Silence filled the apartment so completely that it felt almost like a physical presence. I laid in my bed facing the wall, sleepless for yet another night in a row. I wasn't kept up by nightmares anymore. Having a nightmare would mean that I had fallen asleep, but my brain wouldn't shut off long enough for that. It kept replaying my final conversation with Clint over and over until I felt like I was back at the cabin, doomed to repeat the words that would tear me apart from the inside out.

Telling him to go back to the rest of his team was the right thing to do. Logically, I knew that. Even now, I had no regrets with the decision that had been made for us, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

The entire ride home from the cabin had been in silence. Clint had stared ahead at the road, never sparing me another glance. Tears flowing freely from my eyes until there were none left. He didn't say a word when we arrived. He just walked around me and into the building. I could hear him packing boxes and carrying them down to his truck the entire night. Now, all I heard was silence.

I had never been one to mope around after a breakup or a fight, but I allowed myself to wallow this time. This hadn't been a matter of incompatibility, which made it all the worse. Hours slipped by while I cocooned myself under all the blankets on my bed. The tears had dried up hours ago.

Groaning, I pulled myself up and shuffled out to the couch with my blankets trailing behind. I couldn't stand the silence anymore. Hoping for a bad horror movie or a cheesy sitcom, I flipped the television on, glaring at the sudden brightness.

"-spotted entering Avengers Tower earlier this afternoon. The man known as Hawkeye has been not been in the public since the attacks on the city. What exactly does this sighting mean for the rest of the Avengers? Is he back on the job? Or facing judgement for his actions during the battle?" The news report flashed to a grainy video showing a man hurrying into the Tower, face shielded by a purple ballcap pulled low over his eyes.

My stomach clenched painfully, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. There was something that felt very final about the scene repeating in front of me. Seeing Clint walking into that building sealed the idea that he was not coming back. Reminding myself that he belonged there with the Avengers was hard when the voice in my head sounded unconvinced by itself.

* * *

 **At Avengers Tower…**

"It's nice to have you back, Barton," a voice said when Clint entered the kitchen on the main residence floor.

"Thanks, Bruce," he replied, a tight smile barely registering on his face.

Bruce sat on one of the stools at the counter, a glass of some green health drink in front of him. He gave Clint a sympathetic smile before turning his attention back to the medical book in front of him. Bruce knew more than anyone when someone needed some space to get their head in the right place, a quality Clint never appreciated more than he did at that moment.

He had already had run ins with the rest of the Avengers, with the exception of Thor. All of them wanted to know how he was doing, where he had been, and if he was ready to get back out in the field. His answers were vague and attempts to disengage from conversation were ignored. Clint figured he owed it to the rest of the team to at least be polite. Not putting an arrow through any person who opened their mouth was as polite as he could muster, but he would work on it.

Clint was exhausted. His body was physically drained from the rushed move from his apartment to the Tower. He had packed everything and moved it all across town alone as quickly as he could. That apartment had suddenly felt unbearable to be in and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. The work gave him something to focus on besides Lyra's words or the echoed sounds of her crying on the way home. His arrival at the Tower had not gone unnoticed by the press, but he ignored all of the shouted questions and camera flashes. Once inside, everyone wanted to talk to him, which only exhausted his mind even more. He had found himself in the kitchen out of habit; it was where he had spent the most time in the past when he visited, but now that he was there, he found that he had no appetite even after such a long day.

He hovered in the doorway for a few awkward moments, "I'm going to head to bed. Keep Stark from bothering me, will you?"

Bruce chuckled, "No promises. I think he's distracted with another idea for his suit now though, so he probably won't leave the lab for another couple of days, if we're lucky."

Clint nodded, unsure of how to interact with even the nicest of his colleagues. He slipped out of the room without another word. The hall was empty as he walked to the elevator.

"Should I take you to your floor, Agent Barton?" JARVIS asked as the doors slid shut without a sound.

"Yeah," he grunted, before adding, "Thank you."

"Would you like me to restrict access to your apartment for the evening?" the voice inquired.

Clint couldn't help but smile at the fact that Stark's artificial intelligence system was more polite and observant than the man who created it, "That would be great, JARVIS."

The doors opened to his floor and he stepped out of the elevator into the darkness of the new apartment. Stark had furnished a floor for each of the Avengers, giving each of them privacy and enough room to be comfortable while still having the convenience of being close enough to train and work together. Clint's floor was designed with black and purple furnishings, something he was surprised by when he first stepped foot inside. He had expected Stark to decorate all the apartments as over the top as his Iron Man suits and original Stark Tower interior, but it seemed as if the man had actually taken time to create a space for each member of the team. As abrasive as the billionaire could seem, he had his moments of thoughtfulness.

Clint walked past the unopened boxes that lined the hallway and went straight to the bedroom. Without even removing his shoes, he threw himself down on the bed. Even with all of the exhaustion from the day, Clint suddenly found himself wide awake as the silence of the room gave way to the memories of Lyra's tears rushed back into his mind.

* * *

 **I am so sorry about the delay. My computer broke and I just got it working again. I hope this chapter isn't too dreadful. I know it isn't the best, but I wanted to make sure I updated as soon as I could. I don't want you guys to think I completely forgot about it. I kind of hate this chapter, but I needed it to move the story along to where I wanted, but I just couldn't get this particular one to sound the way I wanted. Thank you for all your patience and I hope you enjoy the story so far!**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

"Agent Barton, sorry to disturb you, but Agent Romanoff is requesting access to the apartment," JARVIS brought Clint out of the dark thoughts swirling around in his head. He groaned and pulled the pillow tighter over his head. He had laid in bed for hours and sleep had never come. The idea of having to interact with another person was not one Clint wanted to entertain, even if it _was_ Natasha.

"Sir,"the British voice interrupted once more, "Agent Romanoff is being very persistent in her request to talk to you. She wanted me to relay a message that she is not wearing the best shoes for kicking the door down and that you will be obligated to replace them if they get ruined from doing so."

Clint sighed, "Fine, let her in."

"I believe that to be a good choice, sir," JARVIS responded before the sound of the elevator doors opening made Clint bury himself into the bed further.

"Did you drink that vodka you still owe me by yourself?" a sultry voice teased.

He pushed the pillow from his face and glared up at her, "I'm not hungover, but thanks for the idea."

Natasha stood in the doorway, arms crossed and an unimpressed expression, "You were supposed to meet me at nine to train. If you're not drunk or hungover, why are you still here?"

Clint shrugged, but had no other response. He hadn't forgotten about their training session. He just couldn't bring himself to move from the dark solitude of his room when his thoughts were lost somewhere across the city.

"You know I'm not a fan of heartfelt conversations about feelings," Natasha said, "I _do_ know that wallowing in self pity isn't doing you any favors. We need you to be ready for missions and sulking is not a skill that we need out in the field, so get your ass off the bed and do something."

With that, she turned on her heel and left without another word. Guilt tugged at the edges of his mind as he begrudgingly untangled himself from the sheets. The rest of the team was expecting him to be the man they knew before; one that would have their backs out in the field and complete the missions without incident. Natasha was right. Laying around would not help anyone.

* * *

Clint threw the bow down on the ground. The sound reverberated in the cavernous training room where he had set up a row of archery targets. Arrows littered the floor and walls behind the targets, but the painted bullseyes remained untouched. He hadn't hit a single target. Not even one. Clint hadn't missed a target since he was a child. Even sick or exhausted, he always managed to find his mark, but now somehow all of his attempts had failed.

He stalked over to the corner and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Frustration threatened to take over. Hands covering his eyes, he hunched over and tried to clear his mind. The bow itself was tuned perfectly, which meant the problem lay with himself. His mind was not focusing on the target practice.

"Everyone has an off day once in a while," a deep voice startled him into a standing position, ready to fight before he realized it was Steve.

"Sorry," Clint apologized, "I didn't get much sleep last night. It made me a little jumpy, I guess."

Steve waved him off, "Don't worry about it. I just came in to ask if you wanted any food or anything. JARVIS said you hadn't gone up to the kitchen yet today."

Steve was never very good at lying. While Clint had no doubt Stark had told JARVIS to monitor Clint's activities in the Tower, he was sure that Steve was using that as an excuse to check up on him without sounding like he was prying too much.

"I'm good. I'll probably grab something in a bit once I clean up in here," he replied.

Steve's eyes wandered back towards the wall with the targets, "I'll leave you to it then."

Clint finally relaxed when the door shut behind the other man. He had been waiting for Steve to remark on the missed targets, self conscious at being caught failing at what was always his specialty. He rushed over and began picking the arrows up. The last thing he needed was Stark to barge in and see his mess.

* * *

 **Across Town…**

A knock on the door dragged my attention from the television I had blankly been staring at all afternoon. Making my way over to answer it, I cursed the sweatpants and tank top that I hadn't changed in a few days. My hair was sure to be a rat's nest. At least my disgusting appearance might help to scare off whoever was at the door. I said a silent prayer that I didn't smell too horrible before opening the door.

"Uhh...hello?" I sputtered out. The man on the other side of the door looked nervous, but I recognized him right away. Captain America. My face burned with embarrassment for standing in front of Captain America while I looked like such a slob.

"Hello, ma'am," he stammered, "Are you Lyra?"

"Yes, I am. What happened? Is Clint okay?" Fear surged through my entire body. There could be only one reason that a member of the Avengers would come to find me: Clint had been hurt, or worse. We were not together anymore, or even really had been. I couldn't possibly be seen as a threat or a risk to the Avengers after I had already cut ties with Clint at the request of Fury. That only left the possibility that he had been hurt or was in trouble.

Steve's eyes widened at my expression, "Oh no, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. He's fine! Well, he's a little out of whack, but he's not hurt or anything. Geez, I didn't mean to upset you. He's going to kill me if he finds out."

I let out a shaky breath that I hadn't realized was caught in my chest. The relief at his words made me want to burst into nervous laughter, but I caught it just in time. No need to embarrass myself even further. Steve looked just as uncomfortable as I did at that point. I stepped to the side and opened the door wider, waving him inside before closing the door behind him. I motioned for him to take a seat at the table in the kitchen. I had to hold in a laugh at the sight of him sitting in front of me, his size making the chair look like it was made for a child.

"Excuse my lovely attire. I swear, I don't normally look this fashionable," I remarked, sarcasm dripping from my tone in a futile effort to ease the awkwardness, "It has been a bit of a rough couple of days."

Steve nodded sympathetically, "I understand. Please don't feel uncomfortable. This is _your_ home, I shouldn't even be bothering you like this. I know Agent Barton will probably have an arrow through my head as soon as he finds out I came here."

I could picture Clint's reaction to Steve Rogers showing up on my doorstep and his assessment was spot on, "So what is it that you need, Captain?"

He wrung his hands together nervously, contemplating what to say. For a man who was able to capable of fighting bad guys and being unfrozen after decades lost in the ice, talking to a girl seemed to be a losing battle for him. I had seen the exhibit at the Smithsonian about Captain America and the Howling Commandos and it was easy to see the small, pre-serum Steve Rogers was still somewhere inside the super soldier even today.

"Clint isn't the same," Steve began, "Something is off about him. He isn't his usual joking, cocky, slightly intimidating assassin self since he arrived yesterday."

The news made my heart ache for him, "He's been through a lot, Captain. The battle was hard on him. The things Loki made him do...he's not just going to forget it all happened. You guys need to cut him some slack."

"Please, call me Steve," he smiled before continuing, "And I know he went through a lot with what happened. I don't expect him to act like nothing happened. I mean, he's different even since the last time I had seen him. The last time I spoke to him, he was doing much better. He was happy, more himself than he had been in months. But now...he's worse than ever. I went to talk to him today in the training room and he was sitting on the floor alone with his bow tossed across the room. He missed all of the targets, which is something I didn't even know was possible for him. None of the others know about that, but he can't keep that a secret forever. He's going to be expected to go out with us on missions, but as much as I hate to say it, he's not even close to being ready for that. He's going to get himself killed."

I bit my lip, thinking over his words. When we had been at the cabin, Clint had been teaching me to shoot and his aim had been perfect. Clearly, it wasn't a matter of being rusty or needing to warm up to training again. As distraught as I had been for the past couple of days over our separation, Clint must be effected by it as well. Even after giving him up, I was still a distraction that was threatening to get him hurt. The guilt was almost unbearable.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to make eye contact with the man sitting across from me, "I thought sending him back to you would make things better. That's where he belongs. I would only be a distraction, a burden on him and the rest of you. There are so many people that need him to keep them safe or fight for them. I should never have gotten involved with him and clouded his judgement like this."

Steve sighed, "Lyra, Clint needs _you_ to fight for him right now."

My eyes flashed up to meet his gaze in surprise, "How am I supposed to do that?"

He smiled, "Start by getting changed and packing some clothes. You're coming with me."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading and for all of the awesome reviews/PMs you guys have sent about this story! I love hearing about what you think about the story and it makes me excited to continue writing something that people enjoy reading. I hope you enjoyed this one! I'm not sure how well I'm writing the other Avengers so far, but I think its just a matter of getting the hang of each character. I've never written a story that has so many distinct characters already established and trying to write them in a convincing way that isn't out of character for each of them is a nice challenge. Let me know if you think something doesn't seem right!**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, but I have strict security protocols put in place by Mr. Stark," the voice repeated as I stood awkwardly beside Steve. We were at the door inside the parking garage, trying to enter the Tower. My eyes darted around nervously at the disembodied British voice lecturing us like school children.

"She's with me, JARVIS," Steve exclaimed, exasperated, "Do you honestly believe that I would be bringing someone from Hydra or a terrorist into the building?"

"I have no doubts about your character, sir," the voice replied, "But Mr. Stark has been very thorough with his security programming. No one is to enter the Tower without proper clearance. Your guest does not have the needed permissions to be given access. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark for you, sir?"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and groaned, "I was hoping to avoid that. Alright, JARVIS, give him a call. Tell him not to come down here though. I don't want to make a big scene about this."

I shifted nervously on my feet. I had seen Tony Stark on television many times over the years, but I had never met the man. He had a reputation for being outlandish, arrogant, and most intimidatingly, brilliant. Steve's reluctance to deal with him gave me some anxiety. Was he really _that_ bad? Would I be thrown out of the building before I even made it through the door? Being thrown out onto the street by the most famous of the Avengers would be a new level of humiliation.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," I worried aloud, "I don't want to make things worse for Clint."

Steve shot me a half smile, unable to hide his own doubt, "I'm sure it'll be fine. Stark's probably busy in his lab and won't even listen to what JARVIS says. We'll be upstairs in no time."

The elevator doors whooshed open suddenly, causing me to jump backwards. Tony Stark stepped out of the elevator, eyes narrowed directly at me, ignoring the man beside me who had stepped in front of me almost protectively. The billionaire's arms were crossed over his chest and he stopped a few feet away, continuing to stare at me with a look that made me feel like I was suddenly under a microscope.

"Trying to sneak a girl into the Tower, Spangles?" he finally spoke, "That's downright scandalous. I thought it would take longer for you to abandon your old fashioned morals. Guess you _are_ a normal guy somewhere in that striped suit of yours. Good taste in women, by the way."

"Stark-" Steve began, before I interrupted.

"Wow, you _are_ as rude as you appeared to be on TV," I snapped, stepping around Steve to glare at the other man, "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from talking about me like I'm not here and especially not in _that_ way. I'm not some fan girl here to hook up with Captain America, thank you very much. No need to be an asshole."

At that, he laughed and broke his serious posture, "Well, now I know you're definitely not sneaking in here to canoodle with our Captain here. He would be too scared to talk to someone like you, let alone sneak you in for some late night fun."

"I'm sorry about him," Steve apologized, sounding as if this was something he had to do on a regular basis.

"I'm Tony Stark," the man stepped forward to shake my hand, "I know you've heard all about me."

I rolled my eyes, but returned the handshake, "Lyra Ridley."

"Now, what can I do for you? You must want something if you're trying to break into my Tower," Tony observed, looking between me and Steve.

"She's here to see Clint," Steve answered.

Tony's eyes narrowed once more, "Barton? Why? And what's with the dufflebag? Is this an assassination attempt on our resident assassin?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it is," I replied dryly, "I guess I should work on my cover story next time."

"She knows him. She's coming to see him and maybe stay for a few days. He's allowed to have visitors. This isn't a prison, Stark. Stop being so difficult," Steve was getting frustrated, which only seemed to amuse Tony even further.

"I didn't agree to host any conjugal visits in my Tower," Tony laughed, "But who am I to get in the way of Legolas getting some action?"

I bit the inside of my mouth to refrain from saying anything to the man who could prevent me from seeing Clint with a single word. I could practically feel Steve's irritation rolling off him in waves next to me as he leaned down and picked up my bag before I could protest. He shoved past Tony and I followed him into the elevator. Tony was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he continued to stare at our annoyed expressions as the elevator began to move.

The doors opened up a few seconds later and Tony gave a dramatic bow before strolling out of the elevator with a flourish. The moment the door slid shut again, Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. For two people who worked and lived together, there was more tension between them than I would have thought. How they didn't kill each other every day was a true mystery.

"I'm sorry again for him," Steve told me, "I would say that you get used to him, but I'm not sure that's entirely true."

"Don't worry about it. He didn't shoot me with his Iron Man suit, so I'm thinking that could have gone worse," I replied as the elevator doors opened once more.

I followed Steve out into a large open room. A kitchen took up one side, while a comfortable living area was the centerpiece of the rest of the space. The walls were made up of floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city. My eyes immediately found a familiar figure standing at the far end of the room, back to us as he looked down at the city. He looked to be deep in thought, not even turning towards us at the sound of our footsteps coming further into the room. Steve set my bag down on the floor next to the elevator doors before giving me an encouraging nod and getting back on the elevator. Seconds later, the doors shut and I was on my own.

My gaze turned back towards the window as I forced my feet to move. This was going to be more difficult than I had imagined. My heart was hammering away in my chest painfully. He didn't turn even when I was a few paces away. I was unsure if he was ignoring me or if he was so lost in his thoughts that he just hadn't heard me.

"Clint," I called softly.

His back became rigid, a sharp inhale of breath the only noise in response. He whirled around in shock, eyes wide and startled as he met my gaze. My own eyes widened as my mouth opened to try to find words to explain my sudden appearance in front of him. The words got caught in my chest as he crossed the distance between us and covered my mouth with his own. I stood stock still in shock for a few seconds as I felt one of his hands come to rest on my cheek, the other on the back of my neck to pull me closer. His lips desperately worked to coax mine to respond before I felt myself return the kiss with just as much vigor. It wasn't soft or gentle; it was a kiss filled with desperation and need that made my stomach flip over in somersaults.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay? Did something happen?" Clint finally rushed out after stopping to catch his breath, pressing our foreheads together and searching my face.

"I'm fine," I reassured him, placing another soft kiss on his lips, "Steve brought me here. He said you haven't been yourself and that you needed me. Please don't be mad at him."

He pulled me tight against his chest, tucking my head under his chin as he kissed the top of my head, "That meddling bastard was right. How can I be mad at him with you in my arms right now?"

That made me smile, "He said I could stay here with you for a few days. I know we're not supposed to be together anymore, but I want to help you get back into your life here first. I want to make sure you're okay and then maybe it will be easier for us to let go if I know you're ready to do your job again."

Clint nodded into her hair, "I'm not letting you leave. A few days will never be enough for me. I can't let you go again. I'm going to figure something out."

His words made me sad. As much as I wanted desperately for that to be true, I knew I shouldn't get my hopes up. Fury was insistent that our relationship would only hinder Clint's ability to do his job and I did not want to interfere with that. I couldn't bring myself to argue with him at the moment; it would do no good to make him worry about losing me again when I had just gotten here. I would let the two of us enjoy the small amount of time we did have together.

"Come on, let me take you to my floor and get you settled in," Clint broke me out of my thoughts.

* * *

My mouth hung open at the sight of the apartment. It was huge and fancier than any hotel I had ever been in, despite the stacks of moving boxes still in the hall. I felt suddenly very out of place.

"Yeah, I'm still not used to it either," Clint laughed, pulling me behind him and down the hall.

He pushed a door open and led me inside. Placing my bag on the floor beside the massive bed, he turned to gauge my expression. I looked around in wonder, before walking over to the floor to ceiling windows that covered the entire wall on one side of the room.

"This is certainly an upgrade from your last apartment, isn't it?" I joked, looking out on the dark city below.

I felt his arms envelop me from behind and his breath beside my ear, "It is now."

His lips found my neck, kissing gently below my ear before moving down to where my pulse was beating frantically. I let out a shaky sigh and tilted my head to give him better access. His grip tightened, pulling me closer back into his chest. One of my hands reached up behind me to tangle my fingers in his hair.

"I missed you so much," he whispered against my skin between kisses.

Turning in his arms, I tilted my head to meet his gaze. I pulled him back down into a kiss in response to his admission. He groaned as I lightly nipped his bottom lip, our gentle kiss turning more urgent. He twisted his fingers into my hair as his other hand found my hip, pulling me flush against him so I could feel his growing desire between us despite the layer of clothing. His tongue traced my bottom lip gently, asking permission which I immediately granted with a moan as I opened my mouth for him further.

My entire body felt like it was on fire as I slowly walked him backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. I trailed my hands down to the top of his pants, fumbling with his belt before he placed a hand on mine.

"Lyra," his voice was rough and deep, half a warning and half a question.

"Please," I pleaded against his lips. That was all he needed to unbuckle his belt for me and push his pants down before stepping out of them completely. I tugged upwards on his shirt, which he threw on the floor seconds later, mine following immediately after. I helped him unbutton my jeans and slipped them off to meet his on the floor.

His stare was dark with desire as I pushed him back onto the bed, moving to straddle him as he laid on his back. His hands found my hips once more as I leaned down to kiss his neck, his chest, everything. I could feel him through his boxers, the thin layers of underwear becoming more frustrating by the second. I ground my hips into his, coaxing a low moan from him as his jerked his hips up at the contact. I stopped kissing him and sat up more, slowly unhooking my bra without losing eye contact with him. I let the fabric fall away and tossed it to the side as he grew even harder beneath me. Within seconds, he had flipped me over so that he was hovering over me, making my heart pound in my chest as his lips explored the newly revealed skin. I gasped as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it as he played with the other with his fingers. My hands slid down his back to his boxers, wordlessly asking him to take them off.

He removed his mouth and complied to my request, taking my underwear off at the same time. The heat between my legs was unbearable as I pushed my hips up towards his desperately, "Clint, I need you."

His fingers moved to explore between my legs, feeling the wetness there that indicated just how ready I was for him. I bucked upwards at the contact and a whine escaped when he removed his hand. He turned his eyes to mine, a silent question passing between us to make sure this really was what I wanted. I nodded, pulling him down into a kiss as he slowly pushed himself into me. I gasped against his mouth as he slid his length in, feeling every inch of him as I clenched around him until he was fully inside. He kissed me gently, staying still for me to get used to his size until I moved my hips against his to show him I was ready. His pace was gentle and slow, sending warm sparks throughout my entire body. With each thrust, I felt myself tightening around him even more. His breathing was ragged as I rocked my hips up to meet his each time, our pace picking up and becoming more desperate. I wrapped my legs around Clint's hips, moaning louder as the angle changed to allow him to go deeper. He gripped my hips tightly as he pumped into me harder.

I felt myself tipping over the edge, my vision blurring as I dug my nails into his back and felt myself tighten around him as my orgasm took hold. He thrust into me hard one more time, burying his head into my neck and letting out a deep moan of his own before collapsing onto me. Neither of us moved, unwilling to break the contact until finally he pulled out and rolled to his side, wrapping his arms around me and refusing to let go again.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

"Agent Barton, I was requested to inform you that Mr. Stark would like to meet with you in twenty minutes," the disembodied voice jolted me out of what had been a peaceful sleep. It took me a good couple of seconds to recognize the unfamiliar room. I settled back down into my position half laying on Clint's bare chest.

"I'm not meeting with Stark to talk about robots or explosives or whatever the hell he wants," Clint mumbled, pulling me closer into him and burying his face into the top of my head.

"Mr. Stark thought you might say that," the voice said at once, "He wanted me to extend the invitation to your companion as well, in the hopes that it would make you more willing to agree."

"Companion?" I grumbled, "Who even says that?"

The voice answered, "I am merely trying to communicate in a more tactful manner than Mr. Stark due to the fact that you are new to the building."

Clint scoffed, "That means JARVIS is filtering Stark's lewd message and making it 'guest friendly.' Alright, JARVIS, we'll be there. Please tell him to leave us alone until then."

A few moments of silence went by before I couldn't help but laugh, "That seriously does not creep you out?" I looked up at Clint from my position on his chest.

He shrugged, "You get used to it, I guess. Its better than having Stark barge in here wearing his Iron Man suit, at least."

A few moments of silence passed as I thought over the events of last night. Clint had said before that he wanted to wait and take things slow between the two of us. His past experiences with women had been made up of one night stands and short flings while out on missions and he wanted to make sure what we had was more than that. Worry pricked at the edge of my thoughts. I didn't even know how long I could stay with him without having to face Nick Fury and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. I hadn't necessarily intended to end up in bed with Clint when I agreed to come to the Tower, though I had certainly not been opposed to the idea. Having sex had made our entire situation more complicated; it would be a thousand times more difficult to let go of him if I was forced to go back to my old life.

"What's wrong?" Clint's voice brought me out of my thoughts. He traced his fingers lightly up and down my spine, the skin tingling under his warm touch.

"I'm fine." Not even a convincing lie to my own ears.

Clint put his hand gently under my chin, pushing it up to look me directly in the eyes, "You're a terrible liar."

"I just don't want last night to be a mistake," I whispered, heart breaking at the sadness that flooded Clint's expression at my words.

"Do you regret what we did?" Clint asked, voice raw as he suddenly avoided my eyes.

"No," I answered truthfully, "But I know you had wanted to take things slow. Now either you're going to get bored or your job is going to make me leave. Its just going to get harder from here on out."

Clint sighed, "You're worried that I'm not going to want to be with you anymore?"

I didn't respond. I knew I sounded pathetic. I had always hated girls who were so dependent on guys that they became clingy or jealous. I never wanted to be like that, but this entire situation had turned my brain into mush. Rational thought had been thrown out the window a long time ago.

Clint's arms tightened around me and he pulled my body up so that my face was a few inches from his own, "Lyra, you have nothing to worry about. If my time away from S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers taught me anything, its that there are more important things in life than work. I love my job and helping people, but at the end of the day, that's a lonely way of living. Meeting you was not a mistake and neither was last night. It just makes me want to fight for you even more. We're going to figure out how to make this work and Fury can either accept it or he can find someone else to do his dirty work."

My brain couldn't process my thoughts into words after that speech. I stared, dumbfounded and in shock. Clint's mouth turned upwards into a smirk as I struggled to respond. The bastard had a way with words and he knew it. I took the smirk right off his face as I pressed my lips into his. He gently pushed my body from beside him so that I was hovering over him, his hands holding me in place on my hips. He grew hard under me as I slowly used my hips to grind into him.

"We have to meet with Stark soon," I pulled back with a frustrated sigh.

"He can wait," Clint brought a hand up to the back of my neck and pulled my face back down to his.

There was no sense of the urgency that had been present the night before. He kissed me with so much care and reverence that it made it almost impossible to remember to breathe. My body ached for him, but we both had wordlessly agreed to take our time and fully appreciate everything that was going on between us. His hands trailed across my body until he came to stop between my legs. His fingers rubbed against me, making a loud gasp escape from my throat as my hips bucked against his touch.

I groaned a few seconds later when he removed his hands. With a husky laugh, he slowly rolled our bodies so that he was on top. I stared up at him, silently begging him to touch me again, desperate for some kind of relief for the increasing heat between my legs. He slowly kissed down the length of my body, only stopping when he was settled between my thighs. My breathing quickened as he kissed the inside of each thigh before running his tongue up my slit. I held back the embarrassingly loud moan that almost followed and clenched the sheets underneath me until my knuckles hurt. Clint brought his hands up to hold my hips down as he continued to lick and kiss every inch of my center. My hips tried to jerk upwards as he focused his attention on my clit, my fingers finding his short hair and tugging on it as he groaned into me. I couldn't stop the moans from escaping as I found myself spiraling over the edge, arching my back as my vision blurred from the intensity.

As I struggled to slow my breathing, Clint crawled back up my body. His smirk had returned as he carefully pushed the hair out of my eyes before kissing me lightly. My hands crept up to his chest and I pushed him to over onto his back, moving to straddle his hips. His hardness pressed into my stomach as I bent down to kiss him. Without leaving his lips, I lowered myself onto his length, making sure to go as slowly as possibly to tease him even further. He moaned into my mouth, the sound deep and longing. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, pulling himself further into me and holding me close. We moved together lazily, not racing towards a finish, simply enjoying the closeness. I moved my head to rest in the crook of his neck as he thrust upwards into me with contented moans, my fingers tracing the planes of his back as he moved.

"I love you," I breathed against his pulse, the words escaping before I could censor myself. He stopped thrusting, still buried inside me. I kept my face tucked into his neck, unable to look at him after my unintended, but honest confession. I braced myself for the worst.

Clint leaned back just enough to tilt my head up to face him, "No one has ever said that to me before. Please don't take it back. I just needed to process it. I didn't think that after everything I've done, all the people I've killed, that anyone could feel that way towards me."

I put my hands on either side of his face, "I love you, Clint. Take all the time that you need to process it, but its true."

Without waiting for him to respond, I resumed moving our hips together, never taking my eyes off his. If he didn't believe my words, I could use my actions to emphasize how I felt. His eyes were no longer dark with lust or desire, they were wide and full of wonder.

I felt myself getting tighter around him as I started to reach the edge. He gripped my hips tightly as we both felt ourselves come undone, "I love you too, Lyra."

* * *

"You were supposed to be here an hour ago," the man in front of us complained as he paced back and forth, "I tried to get JARVIS to remind you again, but he said the two of you were 'busy.'"

"We were," Clint responded shortly, causing me to blush a violent shade of red.

Tony let out an exaggerated gag, making the two of us snicker. We were sitting in a conference room while Tony walked around in front of us like an angry school teacher. The man was obviously not used to having to wait around for anyone else. It might be good for him to learn some patience.

"I just wanted to talk to you about what the situation is with all of this," he gestured vaguely in my direction, "I want to know if this is not a big deal or if I'm going to be hiding her from Fury for the long term. I'd like to know if someone else is moving into my tower."

"Technically, its the _Avenger's_ Tower now," Clint corrected.

"No one appreciates snark," Tony shook his finger at Clint, ignoring the irony of his own statement.

"We haven't officially talked about where I'll be staying," I told him.

Clint shot me a look, rolling his eyes. I smiled when I realized there wasn't much to even discuss. I couldn't possibly imagine going back to my apartment alone at this point. I was in too deep.

"She's staying with me," Clint said, not taking his eyes off mine. Tony let out another disgusted retching noise.

"You're sure you want to bunk with Legolas?" he asked in bewilderment, "Whatever floats your boat, kid. Fury already hates me anyway, so this should be fun."


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

* * *

"You're positive that the others won't mind me staying here with you?" I asked again for the nine hundredth time that day.

"I'm sure," Clint replied, "Even if they didn't like it, I could just shoot them with my bow and that'd be the end of it." He had resorted to teasing me about my worries after the first twenty times I asked.

I pushed my hair off of my sweat covered forehead. We had been unpacking things from both of our old apartments. Clint had wanted to waste no time in having me officially living with him in the Tower, so we had rushed over to pack up all my stuff as soon as we had gotten done talking to Tony. The billionaire proved to be good at sneaking around behind Fury's back once again when he had suggested that I keep renting the empty apartment to avoid unwanted attention from S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I still think I should be the one to pay rent on my old apartment," I said as I hung up clothes in the massive bedroom closet.

"Nope," Clint yelled from down the hall.

"Okay, Captain America, I'd like to be done with the 1940s now, please," I teased, "Women are allowed to pay for things now. Did you you hear? I saw something about that on the news."

I heard his footsteps shuffling down the hall. Clint came to stand in the doorway, hair sticking up and some dust on his face. We had been unpacking for a few hours now, but I had insisted that we couldn't just live in a fort made of boxes like he had suggested. He leaned against the door frame and ran his hand through his hair, tiredly.

"Lyra, I'm not trying to act like you're not capable of paying for things yourself. I'm really not. I just think that in this particular instance, I should be the one to take care of it. You wouldn't even be in a situation where you'd be paying rent on an apartment you don't even live in if it weren't for me," he explained, biting his lip and looking concerned. Sometimes it was easy to see how new the whole relationship thing was for him and he had to think about how to explain what he was thinking aloud for another person.

I shook my head and crossed the room to pull him into a hug, "You say that like you're forcing me to do this. I _want_ to be here with you. This is my choice just as much as it is yours. If you're starting to regret taking this step, then all you have to do is tell me. I don't want to rush you into anything. But stop acting like I'm moving in here because I have a gun to my head. I don't."

He chuckled softly into my hair, "That's because it's an _arrow_ to your head, not a gun."

Playfully punching his arm, I replied, "You've got me."

"I'm serious though," Clint continued, "You have to admit, our situation is not like most people who are dating. Most people don't have to secretly move into a ridiculous fortified tower built by an egocentric billionaire to live with their assassin boyfriend or keep a decoy apartment to appease the director of an intelligence agency."

I snorted, "When you put it like that, it does sound like a bad romantic comedy, doesn't it?"

He nodded, "The least I can do is cover the rent for the 'fake' apartment since you're putting up with all of the weirdness that comes with dating me."

"Agent Barton, I am to inform you that dinner is ready," a voice interrupted from overhead.

Clint's face scrunched up in confusion, "Okay…? I didn't order any food or anything."

"Mr. Stark has taken the liberty of providing dinner for all the Avengers this evening. I believe he called it a 'family dinner,'" JARVIS replied.

"Oh no," Clint groaned into his hands, "That bastard. I am so sorry about this. He wants everyone to meet you all at one time."

My eyes widened. I let out a long exhale, looking down in panic at my outfit. I had been wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt to unpack boxes in. My hair was thrown into a bun that had slowly been coming undone for the past hour. I looked like a complete and total mess.

"How long do we have until he wants us there?" I asked, tilting my face towards the ceiling, unsure where to direct my question without a screen or an actual person to talk towards.

There was a pause, which I assumed meant the AI was repeated my question back to Tony, "Five minutes, at the most, miss."

I jumped into action, startling Clint with my sudden and frantic rush around the room. The process of moving and unpacking had left me with no idea where exactly all of my things were, so I rummaged through them blindly. Finally, I ended up dressed casually, but still less like a homeless person who wandered into the building. I ran a brush through my hair as best as I could and said a silent prayer that it was at least halfway presentable. Clint was in the exact same spot when I came to a stop in the doorway, an amused grin spread across his face.

"Nervous, huh?" he mocked. He took my hand and led me towards the elevator.

"Not nervous at all." All I got in response was a laugh.

* * *

"Took you two long enough. This better not become a habit. You know how I feel about waiting around," Tony exclaimed, drumming his hands on the table like an impatient child.

Everyone turned from their places at the long table to watch us walk in. My stomach dropped to the floor as I felt all the eyes focused on me. I was never a fan of too much attention, but this was even worse. These were some of the most intimidating people in the world and I was put on display for all of them to study. I would be lucky if I made it through dinner without being violently ill or fainting under the table. Clint put his hand reassuringly on the small of my back and led me to one of the empty chairs before slumping down into his own. He shot a warning glare at everyone.

"This is Lyra," he said, "Lyra, this is the Avengers." Introductions were apparently not a strong point in his training. I gave a smile, hoping it didn't look too panicked, but the amused expression on Tony's face dashed any hope for that.

"Good job, Barton," he laughed, "Okay, Lyra, I'll take over from that lovely speech. You already know Spangles here." Steve gave me a comforting smile that made me relax slightly.

"Then you have Thor. Don't bad mouth his hammer. The man _loves_ his hammer." He pointed towards a gigantic blond man who had a roll stuffed into his mouth, looking guilty at being caught stealing food already.

"Bruce Banner is a brilliant doctor who has been essential to a lot of the research that we have done here." The man looked confused over to Tony and awkwardly adjusted his glasses. "Oh, right, and he's a giant green monster when he gets really angry. Its hilarious."

"And the terrifying redhead is Natasha Romanoff. She's an assassin so scary that she makes Barton look like a puppy." The woman rolled her eyes before flashing me a slightly sinister smile. I made a mental note to ask Clint more about her later. Everyone else looked friendly, but she had an unmistakable dangerous look in her eye and I couldn't help but feel it was directed towards me.

"Okay, now let's eat before Robin Hood and his girl sneak off for more fun time," Tony exclaimed, laughing at my obvious blush.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **As a side note, I have a poll up on my profile right now that has some options for what my next story might be. I'm having a hard time deciding, so if you'd like to voice your opinion, you can vote for which character you'd like to see. I do intend to finish my other stories besides this one, but I'm having writers block with them, so I figured as long as I kept momentum writing overall, I would come back to them. Thanks!**


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

* * *

 **As a reminder, I have a poll up on my profile right now that has some options for what my next story might be. I'm having a hard time deciding, so if you'd like to voice your opinion, you can vote for which character you'd like to see.**

* * *

After the awkward first 'family' dinner with the rest of the Avengers, Clint and I managed to slip into our new living arrangements with ease. As much as I had worried initially, living in the Tower with him was absolutely the right choice. I was able to continue working at the dog kennel and, because Tony flat out refused to accept any form of rent in exchange for living there, I was able to start saving quite a bit of money. For once, I did not have to feel like I was living paycheck to paycheck and I was able to simply enjoy living my life.

When I was not at work or spending time with Clint, I had free reign to explore the Tower. Most days, while Clint was training, I would find myself in the lab with Bruce. Despite Tony's initial introduction of the doctor as being a green monster, he was easily the most approachable and easy going of the team. He seemed relieved to have someone to talk to who wasn't nervous around him or who tried to provoke 'the other guy.'

I still had not quite been able to breach the subject of Natasha. Whenever I tried, I couldn't quite find the words to bring it up. Everything that I tried to plan out in my head sounded like a jealous or insecure accusation. I tried to avoid being in a room alone with her. It wasn't as if I thought she would do anything to me, but I could feel her dislike for me coming off in waves. She made me nervous with just a glance.

"Something bothering you?" Clint came up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist.

I stirred the pasta sauce and tried to avoid his question. I rarely cooked, so I figured it would be easy to pretend that I was lost in concentration and not trying to get out of talking. I never was very good at discussing anything that was upsetting me. Usually, I defaulted to bottling it up until I was blue in the face.

Clint nuzzled his face into the side of my neck, "I'm not a trained chef or anything, but I don't think the sauce is going to catch on fire if you talk to me."

"Is there a reason Natasha always looks like she wants to strangle me?" I blurted out. So much for bringing it up tactfully.

"She's Russian," Clint joked, his breath tickling as it blew against my hair.

"Did you two used to date?" I asked. Now that I had already started, the words just kept coming out without any help from me.

Clint pulled back and reached around me to take the spoon from my hand. He set it down and turned me to face him, his expression more serious than usual. I wished I could take back the questions and make this situation go away. I didn't want to hear about the two of them being together and I certainly didn't want to be subjected to any of the details. I would take her death glares with all the grace in the world if I could rewind this moment and keep my mouth shut.

Clint reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, "No, we never dated. We were never together in _any_ way." He gave me a look to let me know he meant for his explanation to cover all possibilities, sparing me from having to ask any further horrifying questions.

I let out a deep breath that I hadn't even known I was holding. I felt more relieved than I should at his words. My mind was kicking itself at being so insecure.

"Why does she always glare at me then?" I pressed, "And don't give me the Russian thing again. A real answer. I'd like to not be assassinated the next time I use the elevator."

Clint shrugged, "Hell if I know. She's like a sister to me and I know she doesn't have feelings for me that go beyond that either. We've been friends a long time. We used to go on a lot of missions together before joining the Avengers, but it was never anything more than that."

I nodded, but I was still not convinced there was more to Natasha's glares and cold shoulder than that.

"What if I have her come over tonight? We can watch a movie or something and maybe she'll warm up to you. She's not a very trusting person, so she might just be wary of a new person being around," Clint suggested.

"Okay, we can try that," I replied, secretly dreading the idea but I was at a loss as to what else to do.

Clint took out his phone and started typing away quickly, "She said she'll be down in an hour and that I have to pay up with the vodka I owe her."

* * *

The elevator opened and closed right as Clint put the last of the dishes away. He gave me an encouraging grin and went to meet Natasha down the hall. I wrung my hands together nervously and went to sit on the couch, trying to ignore the gnawing anxiety in my stomach.

Looking up when they entered the room, I fought to keep the friendly look plastered to my face as I shrunk under Natasha's irritated stare. Clint noticed the awkward tension and excused himself to go get the prized vodka from the kitchen. I could hear him scrambling to hurry as he banged things around in the kitchen before he burst back into the room, arms full with the bottle and three glasses. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

A few hours later, we had collectively finished the bottle of vodka and had moved on to beer. Clint was laughing and joking around normally, but the tension between Natasha and me was still looming over my head. I was able to relax a little more, due to the alcohol mostly, but I was still unable to get to know her or have her relax around me at all. She continued to avoid unnecessary eye contact or direct conversation with me, choosing to mostly talk to Clint without being overly rude, but I noticed it all the same.

"I am going to make us some popcorn or something. I'll be right back," Clint exclaimed, oblivious to the continued awkwardness. I vowed to murder him later as soon as I got the chance.

I took another sip of my beer, silently counting the seconds so I would know just how much I was going to have to murder him in exchange for this. I stared at the carpet in the hopes that I had developed the ability to teleport or become invisible.

"I know why he invited me tonight," Natasha's voice startled me, "He wants us to be friends."

I smiled and shrugged, unsure what she wanted me to say.

"I'm sure you're a nice person. You seem to really like Clint and he seems to like you. I'm not interested in him. That's what you're thinking, but I'm not jealous of your relationship. Clint is like a brother to me. I wasn't raised with a...traditional...family, so I'm not sure if I'm overreacting or not, but I'm just having a difficult time getting used to the idea of you," she explained matter-of-factly.

I put the pieces together, "You don't think I'm good enough for him?"

She shrugged and gave me a cold, but somehow apologetic smile, "I'm not sure that I think anyone is good enough for him. He's a good man and I know he cares for you more than he has for anyone else before, so I'll try to trust his judgement about you. I want you to know though, if you do anything to hurt him or to jeopardize his safety in any possible way, I will not hesitate to kill you."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

* * *

 **Some quick notes before we get to the good stuff: First, this story is almost done! We're in the last stretch now. There's a few more exciting things coming your way and then I'm going to wrap it up. That leads me to my next point and that is what comes next. I have a poll up right now that is meant for everyone to have their voice heard about what story they want next. Do you want a sequel to this? Is there another character you'd like to read about? Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Two Months Later...**

"Would you want to go out for dinner tonight?" Clint asked. He had just gotten changed after a particularly intensive training session and the exhaustion kicking in now that the adrenaline had worn off. "I'm way too tired to cook and you've been cooking for both of us enough lately. Let's just go get some pizza or something."

"Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Barton?" I teased, "I think you need to work on your charm. It's almost overwhelming."

He rolled his eyes, "Romance novels can't compare to me, love."

"Wow," I snorted, "Come on and let's leave before your head gets any bigger. No shawarma though." I pulled on a light jacket and hooked my arm into his before setting off.

* * *

"You weren't kidding about all the extra training," I observed, eyes wide at the sight before me. Clint had finally leaned back in his chair to signal that he was done eating, but only after he had demolished almost two entire pizzas by himself.

For the past few weeks, Fury had called for an increase in training hours for all of the Avengers. There were rumors that Hydra was not as disbanded as previously thought. There had been a couple of rogue Hydra agents captured by members of S.H.I.E.L.D. When interrogated (which I strategically avoided asking for more details about), there had been mentions of Hydra compounds gaining strength in a few remote locations around the world. So far, none of the enemy agents had given up any coordinates, but everyone seemed to think it was just a matter of time before there was more concrete evidence and the Avengers would be sent out to deal with the threat.

"I'm sorry that we haven't gotten to spend much time together lately," Clint apologized, reaching across the table to take my hand. I used my other hand to trace patterns on the back of his. "I know I've been in the training rooms more than in the apartment and I wish I could fix that for you. I hate having to drag you along with all the hectic things in my life."

I gave his hand a tight squeeze, "Stop worrying that I'm going to run off screaming because of what you do. I knew pretty early on what I was getting into and this is all just part of your life, which I am happy to continue to share with you. If you apologize one more time though, I swear I will ask Bruce to let the Hulk teach you a lesson."

Clint stood and pulled me up along with him, "I could use the Hulk to carry me home right now. I feel like I'm about to fall into a food coma."

We stepped out into the street, hand in hand. It was late enough that there weren't a lot of people walking around. I loved being out in the city on nights like this; I could almost pretend it was we were the only ones around for miles. We had been talking about making a trip to Clint's cabin whenever he was given some more time off from S.H.I.E.L.D next. I glanced over at Clint to find him already smiling down at me. He stopped and tugged me against his chest for a kiss. It wasn't anything too crazy considering we were in public, but it was so sweet and loving that it made my entire spine tingle.

A flash of light off to the side made us pull apart. I squinted into the darkness to figure out where it came from, only to have Clint tighten his grip on my hips. He let out an angry sigh that was bordering on a growl as he narrowed his eyes at the man standing a few feet away from us behind a trash can. A large camera was gripped in his hands. A reporter. The rest of the Avengers had to deal with reporters and photographers trying to grab snapshots of their day to day lives whenever they went out in public, but Clint had been lucky for the most part. Aside from the mystery surrounding where he went after the battle with the Chitauri, he had been left alone in comparison to the rest of the team.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Clint snarled at the man. I placed my hand gently on his forearm to calm him down. He was never one to have a temper or to get into a fight with someone who wasn't his mission, but the strain of the increased workload must have given him a shorter fuse than usual. The man stepped out from his hiding spot, dressed in all black with glasses crooked on the edge of his nose.

"The people want to know what the city's heroes do when they're not being Avengers. I'm sure everyone would be fascinated to see who Hawkeye is dating these days. Can I get a name for your pretty girl there?" the man's voice squeaked. He was trying to not show his fear, but he was shrinking back under Clint's harsh glare.

"I think that after everything the Avengers have done for the city, the least they deserve is some privacy. He shouldn't have to put up with slimy reporters hiding out in trashcans to photograph him whenever he sneezes," I replied in an icy tone before leading Clint away.

"Thanks," Clint mumbled after a few minutes, "I would apologize, but I'd hate to have to deal with the Hulk when we get back."

We continued our trek back to the Tower slowly. For me, it was to enjoy the beautiful night and for Clint, it was because I knew his muscles ached from sparring with Steve earlier. Despite our run in with the reporter, he was relaxed, a contented smile on his face as I swung our intertwined hands back and forth childishly.

Clint's ringtone began to blare from inside his pocket. I could see the internal struggle of whether or not to ignore it flicker over his face before he gave in, "What's going on, Nat? Wait, what? How many of them? Where?" His eyes darted over to mine and the fear behind them made my heart stop. We stopped walking, Clint growing more pale by the second. "Where's Banner? Send him out here to get Lyra. I'm not going anywhere until I know she's safe."

He hung up the phone, looking around nervously. Fear made my pulse hammer away painfully. I had never seen him look so panicked. He was always calm and able to adapt to any situation without showing any sign of stress, so this frightened me.

Clint started to ramble nervously as he watched the street, "A group from Hydra took twenty S.H.I.E.L.D agents and their families hostage across town. Fury is sending all of us in to get them out safely. Bruce is going to come and take you back to the Tower with him. He's not allowed to be on missions involving civilians in small quarters like this. I'm supposed to meet the rest of the team at the location, but I'm going to wait for Banner to get you, alright? These Hydra agents are a little too close for comfort and I can't risk them finding you. They're only a few blocks from here. We have to assume they know about you and that it would get to me if they hurt you."

Flinging my arms around him, I hugged his body to mine to try to stop the barrage of thoughts racing through his mind before he thought up more worst case scenarios, "Clint, if they need you right now, _go._ I don't need you to hold my hand until Bruce gets here. I'll be fine."

At my words, Clint gripped me tighter into his chest, "Not until you're with Banner. He's only a few minutes away and then I'll go."

The high pitched whine of a motor signaled Bruce's arrival. He pulled up on his tiny motorcycle and shot me a small smile. I pressed a quick kiss to Clint's lips and nodded for him to go. He waited as I scrambled onto the back of Bruce's bike, giving the doctor a somber, but meaningful look before turning and running down the street towards his new mission.

* * *

 **I just want to say thank you to everyone who reads and reviews this story! You guys are the absolute best!**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

* * *

 **Only one more to go, folks! We're in the countdown.**

* * *

"Lyra, you need to relax," Bruce reminded me from his spot on the couch, "He's done this a thousand times. There's no reason for you to worry yourself sick all night."

His words barely registered over the sound of my own frantic thoughts. I continued pacing back and forth across the main living area of the Tower. I had created a routine alternating between looking out the windows over the city and checking the television for updates on the hostage situation. So far, it seemed that S.H.I.E.L.D had managed to keep everything under wraps because there had been no mention of it on any of the channels. I hated not knowing what was going on. My imagination continued to conjure up every possible thing that could go wrong until I felt sick to my stomach. My hands would not stop shaking.

Bruce was used to being sidelined from missions where he could accidentally hurt or kill civilians, so being patient while the rest of the team was out fighting wasn't new to him. There had been no updates from any of the Avengers. In desperation, I had even begged JARVIS for news, but I was continuously reminded that I did not have the clearance level for that information.

"Does it usually take this long?" I demanded harsher than I had intended, but Bruce seemed unfazed. It had been hours since Clint had gotten the call and the evening started its spiral into chaos.

"I can give you something to help you relax, if you want," he suggested. I bit back a nasty remark about the irony of the Hulk himself telling me to calm down. Bruce was only trying to help and my incessant stressing could not be a pleasant situation for him to be in.

"Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers have arrived. They will be here shortly," JARVIS announced. My knees felt weak with relief. I rushed over to Bruce and flung my arms around him in a crazed hug, which he returned by awkwardly but fondly patting my back. I was so happy to hear JARVIS include the part about 'the rest of the Avengers' that I didn't know what to do with myself. "Director Fury will be landing via quinjet on the roof in fifteen minutes."

I stopped bouncing on the balls of my feet, blood freezing at the revelation. I looked to Bruce for guidance, but he looked just as shocked as I felt. This was evidently not a normal aspect of missions. Panic at what to do left me frozen to the spot. If Fury was coming _here_ and not meeting with them later at one of the S.H.I.E.L.D bases, something must have happened on this mission. Something big.

"JARVIS," I exclaimed, "You said _all_ of the Avengers?"

"Yes, miss. They have all arrived with no injuries other than some bruising and minor cuts. Nothing to worry about," JARVIS informed. His assurances did nothing to ease my discomfort.

The elevator doors slid open and the group shuffled into the room, clearly exhausted but all on their feet. Without even deciding to do it, I rushed over to Clint immediately and grabbed both his hands. I searched him up and down for any signs of serious injury, relieved to find nothing but a small laceration on the side of his forehead, the bleeding already stopped. It took me a few seconds to realize that Clint was avoiding my eyes, instead keeping his gaze fixed to his shoes. The others walked around us to sit down for a few minutes before Fury arrived, but I held Clint's hands tightly and kept him in front of me.

"Are you okay? I was so worried," I gushed out in a soft whisper. Talking any louder would surely betray the fact that I was close to tears with relief. He flinched at my voice almost as if I had slapped him. My eyebrows knitted themselves in confusion; this was not one of the many reactions I had been anticipating.

"Fury is going to be here soon. You shouldn't be here." His voice was so low that I almost didn't hear him and when I processed his words, I wished that I hadn't. After hours of worrying about him, terrified of what might happen while he was fighting and risking his life, I didn't have the strength to hide the hurt that was written across my face. I dropped his hands as if his touch had burned me. The hurt began to twist and mold itself into another emotion: rage. I clenched my jaw, indignant at his behavior. I wanted to let all of my anxiety and frustration out on him, to yell at him, but I couldn't form what I was feeling into words in a way that would not spew out in hysterics.

Behind Clint, the elevator opened once more. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut without turning to watch as Fury stalked out. He was dressed in his standard long coat and eye patch, looking every bit as intimidating as I remembered, but this time, his stern expression shocked me into a stunned silence.

"I should have known," he said through gritted teeth, "Good job at hiding her, Stark. That was impressive even for you." Fury walked up to stand beside Clint, narrowing his eyes at me with an angry glint in his expression. Clint straightened his posture and opened his eyes into the neutral expression of a trained agent.

Fury turned his eyes to the rest of the group, "I want you all at the table right now to discuss that little...mishap back there. I don't have time to move this to a conference room for a formal meeting. I'm needed back at the Triskelion to meet with the council and explain what the hell happened."

I moved towards the elevator, trying not to draw attention to myself further. This was official S.H.I.E.L.D business, which I had been constantly reminded was out of my pay-grade. I had no place here with the Avengers and Clint had already expressed his feelings toward seeing me now for whatever reason. Perhaps his work life and his life with me really were incompatible.

I felt a hand on my arm and looked to see Fury with a grim expression trained on me, "This involves you now too since you decided to disregard what we had agreed." I felt like a child being scolded in front of the class. Head hanging, I hurried over and sat next to Bruce, on the far side of the table from Clint. He was still trying to pretend I didn't exist, making my heart sink even lower.

* * *

 **In reply to a question I got about the potential for a sequel for this story and its possible timeline: I'm not 100% sure yet, to be honest. I do have an idea that I've been throwing around for a sequel, but I don't have plans for it to necessarily follow any of the movies. I'm not a huge fan of reading stories that follow movies too closely because I feel like that gets repetitive a lot of the time. I would probably have a timeline that maybe mentions a few plot points from Age of Ultron or Winter Soldier, but I would also try to blend comic-Hawkeye with that, so no wife and kids on a farm. Maybe I won't even do a sequel and will focus more on a completely new story. I hope that clears things up! Thanks for asking!**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

* * *

Fury settled himself in the seat at the end of the table. Everyone regarded him with wary eyes. The mission really must not have gone well and they all knew it. They were each bracing themselves. Even Tony looked more subdued than usual.

"As you know, the Avengers Initiative was a program that was next to impossible to pull together. Even after Loki and the Chitauri, the public was still not fully on board with the idea of a group of individuals with certain...skills and abilities, even if they were the ones protecting their lives. With the growing threat of Hydra's return, this entire program has been under more scrutiny than ever before. Tonight, we had agents and their families taken by Hydra. This type of situation, while precarious, should have been easy enough for people such as yourselves to handle without any risk to the hostages," Fury's voice was low but menacing. Everyone's eyes were glued to the table, even mine.

"I want you to walk me through what happened," Fury demanded. I had no doubt that S.H.I.E.L.D had visuals throughout the entire ordeal. He wanted to hear what happened in person. He was making an example out of his anger.

"We arrived at the location as soon as we got the alert. The hostages were being held at gunpoint in an empty warehouse. There were more Hydra agents than we had been expecting," Steve informed, his voice taking on a military-like tone. "Natasha found a way into the building without being detected and shut off the power. With lowered visuals, we were then able to surround the men inside from elevated positions. We attempted to remove the threats from a distance, in the hopes that the element of surprise and lack of hand to hand combat would be safer for the hostages. We took down the men guarding our people, but we missed five agents around the side of the building. These men opened fire on the hostages, but we were able to stop them within seconds."

I glanced over at Clint at the news. His expression was guilt-stricken, his eyes red as he stared straight ahead unseeing. As his first mission back, he was taking this turn of events personally. I could see the weight of what happened pushing down on him.

"Fifteen people are in critical condition. Four are dead. These were people you worked with, who you knew. These were their families and loved ones. This could have gone differently if the entire team had been in place when they were given the orders. _This_ is why I insisted on each of you figuring out where your priorities were before agreeing to the job," Fury's eyes pierced into my own.

He threw a handful of photographs onto the table, spreading them out for everyone to see. "We found these in the possession of one of the Hydra agents. He had been instructed to pose as a reporter to distract a member of the team who Hydra felt was a threat to their abduction of the hostages. They didn't want a trained sniper spotting all of their movements before they could get their message across."

I stared down at multiple copies of Clint and I locked in an embrace on the sidewalk. To anyone else, the images would have been a pleasant memory, but now I felt sick at falling right into their trap. The man had surprised us with the camera flash, so when Clint got the call from Natasha, he was already on edge at the idea of being followed. He prioritized my safety, waiting until Bruce could arrive to sweep me out of danger, before following the orders to the hostage's location.

I couldn't help the words that spilled out as I tore my eyes away from the pictures. "You can't put the blame for what happened to those people entirely on Clint. You can't blame _any_ of them for what Hydra did. Obviously, the mission could have been handled differently, but it could have also ended with Hydra killing everyone either way. _Hydra_ is to blame for this."

To my surprise, Fury nodded his head. His expression softened and he shut his eyes, wearily. "I agree. Unfortunately, this photograph has already been leaked to the media. It is all over every news site and television station as of ten minutes ago, as well as the news of the shootings. The public approval of the Avengers has always been tenuous at best. With Hydra growing in strength, we need this team now more than ever, but this is going to make the public distrustful of the Avenger's abilities to keep everyone safe. I know how unfair the pressure is on each of you and the amount of sacrifices that come with this life, but that is the reality of it. The rest of you are free to go. I have a few more things I need to discuss before I leave." He looked pointedly at Clint and then at me as the rest of the group stood and left. I wished I could sink down through the floor.

"Barton, you're one of my best agents," Fury began, "But I can't ignore this. I expect all my agents to follow my orders exactly as instructed. We need to come to a final agreement about this situation right here and now. If you are to continue as a full member of the Avengers, this relationship must end. I know how hard it is to find someone in this world, especially considering the backgrounds we all have and I empathize with that, I do. But the risk is only getting bigger and we both know it."

I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. I had known it would come back to this eventually. I had tried to tell myself that, tried to force myself to see the reality of the situation that Clint had a duty to the Avengers above all else. My heart had been naive. I had desperately clung to the hope that we could figure this out somehow, but the guilt over those people getting hurt tonight because I had become a distraction was overwhelming. Clint was still without expression, staring straight ahead like he was completely devoid of emotions. He had flipped a switch and shut it all off.

"There is one other option that I have been considering," Fury said, looking between the two of us. I suddenly realized how hard his job must be. It was obvious that he had no desire to tear the two of us apart maliciously; he was simply following the path that he believed was right for everyone's safety.

"There is a young woman who has caught the notice of S.H.I.E.L.D recently. She seems to possess a highly advanced natural talent for using a bow. She's been getting into some trouble lately, nothing serious, just some childish mischief mainly, but she might be persuaded to get her act together and work for us," Fury explained, stopping to gauge Clint's reaction.

"You want to replace me with some teenage girl?" He asked, jaw clenched.

Fury chuckled, "I wouldn't call her that, if I were you. And no, not not exactly. If she agrees, I would like you to train her until she could take your spot on missions with the Avengers. You would still be called in on missions of particular importance or if otherwise deemed necessary, but the rest of the time, you would act as a consultant for our stealth units. You would be able to have more of a normal life." He nodded towards me to emphasize the weight of his offer.

"I'd be given a desk job," Clint grunted, scratching at the table. I could see the conflict raging in his head. Doing this could give us at least a chance to be together without as much of a risk to ourselves or anyone else, but it would mean handing over the torch to someone else. Clint would have to leave behind a job that he had loved and excelled at for so long. I kept my lips pressed into a thin line, letting him think through the options without accidentally guilting him into a forced decision.

"S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't really _do_ desk jobs," Fury laughed, his good nature slipping through the cracks, "Besides, you would be the one who would have final say over whether or not this woman is a viable option. We would still be using you for the missions no one else has the skills to do. This would just take some of the pressure off you. This isn't an offer I give to agents normally, Barton. This is your chance to decide what _you_ want."

Clint finally met my stare, reaching over to take my hand. "When do I start training this woman?" He smiled for the first time since he arrived. My own expression beamed back at him as I stood to remove the space between us, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling his face to mine.

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted the moment. "I'll arrange for her to meet with you within the next couple of days. Her file is already on your computer for you to look over. Her name is Kate Bishop."

* * *

 **End Notes**

 **We've come to the end. I have some ideas for a sequel, but I'm not entirely sure if I want to focus on that or something totally new. You can put in your two cents on a poll I have posted on my profile, if you are willing to share your thoughts.**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed reading this story as much as I loved writing it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and gave me feedback over the course of this entire experience. You guys are amazing! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter or the story overall so I can improve whatever comes next!**


	27. Time Off Update

**Hello everyone!**

 **I just wanted to say thank you to all the people who read this story and who took the time to review and give me feedback. You guys were amazing!**

 **I have had some a few people express interest in a sequel to this story. This is definitely something I have been trying to plan and outline even before I had finished Time Off itself. In the meantime, I have started another story about Bucky Barnes from Captain America to clear my head after spending so much time on this.**

 **I will update this story when I release the next phase of this Clint and Lyra's adventures, so keep an eye out for story alerts about its progress!**

 **Thank you!**


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